The Changing
by ManarInMoon
Summary: Detective Amy Dowson is assigned from homicide, to deviant-related homicide. She is partnered up with Connor, a Cyberlife RK800 android whose task is to assist the police investigations regarding deviants. What happens when he becomes the mission, a deviant himself? She played a role in it he knew, but he couldn't blame her, didn't want to. Want. He wanted things. He was alive.
1. 1: Just The Beginning

_OC best portrayed by __Evangeline Lilly__._

P.S: Can we please pretend that Markus has been with Jericho the entire previous month prior Connor's arrival at the DPD, cause leader in a week is so fake. Also, I'm adding filler days (days between game days) to lengthen the story.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my character and the plot changes.

XXXXX

"Ah, come on!" complains Amy in frustration.

"Shit. Oh, screw this!" Hank whined as well, along with a few patrons from within the bar who were also watching the Detroit basketball game. A handful seemed pleased that the Drones were winning, but the other, and Hank and Amy were rooting for the Gears.

"Excuse me, detective Dowson?" a quiet voice asked. Amy turned on her stool to eye the inquirer.

"Yeah?" she curiously calls, then notices who-**what**-she was talking to.

It was an android.

The year was 2038. Technology was at a peak in the world, specifically in the androids department, their biggest manufacturing company being Cyberlife. Androids were invented by the elite to execute the jobs and things the humans couldn't or didn't want to do. So as to say, they were created **so** near human, merely to fit in more smoothly. It would have been highly creepy to have a bunch of machines on legs running around the city, their metallic in-and-out structure most likely coming with an aura of threat and coldness that the humans would not have accepted all too easily, if at all.

Of course, there were some distinctive features, ones that, for example, Amy could point out and be firm on the fact that the man opposite her was, indeed, an android. Their uniform. It almost always had blue, neon-like signs or symbols, defining their job and model. This one was wearing a grey suit-jacket with a blue armband on the right arm, and on the front was a blue triangle on the left breast, and his model and serial numbers on the right breast. Then, of course, there was their LED, an external feedback biocomponent. It was a small circle placed on their right temple. It lights up in different colors (blue, yellow, and red) according to an android's mental processes and overall condition, not to mention, you see it, you know it's an android.

"My name is Connor," he introduces himself plainly. This Connor seemed-only **seemed**-to be in his mid-twenties or early thirties. His skin was a normal beige, face sprinkled with several small moles. His eyes were a light brown, and hair was chestnut-in-color, texture straight and brushed back neatly. Besides the jacket, beneath was a spotless, white button-up complimented by a plain, black tie. He wore dark jeans, and black, shiny shoes. His bodily form seemed proportionally fit. "I'm the android sent by Cyberlife," he states. _'No shit,'_ her mind whispers. "I looked for you at the station, and was told I might find you here. Your cellphone appears to be out of service."

"Oh, shoot," she scowls, fishing said mobile out of her jeans' back pocket beneath her tight, blue, cotton blouse. Hank eyes Connor with a cringed nose. The android payed him no mind at all as he kept his mission-driven eyes fixated on his target. She brings the phone out, pushes the side button with her thumb. No response. Dead battery. "Damn. When did this happen?" she asks in a daze. Connor assumed her confusion was related to the three empty shot glasses opposite her. "I'll just charge it in the car," she says, mostly to herself.

"Detective. You've been assigned a case, a homicide involving a Cyberlife android," he informs. Amy faces the counter, head kneeled down as she sighs in disappointment at the late night work. From beside her, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, her coworker, mentor, and father-like figure, let out an amused chuckle. She snaps her head towards him.

"Shut up, Hank!" she irritably-though mostly tiredly-tells.

"Looks like someone's about to burn the mid-night oil. And I'll be here, enjoying my drink, and the game," he teases.

"Alright, alright!" she shouts in semi-amusement. She turns to Connor once more, sliding of the stool and loosing balance for a second. "Okay, uhhh, Kent?"

"Connor."

"Right. Connor. Let's go," she beckons, walking past him through the crowd huddled near the counter for the tv screen, to the double, glass door.

XXX

"Where to?" she asks, seated behind her grey Ford Fusion wheel, with Connor to her side.

"Sixty-four, thirteenth Pine Street," he replies. She gives an uninterested nod, starts the car, and pulls out of parking. A minute in, she asks:

"So. An android sent to deal with androids. How did that happen?" she asks with a mocking smirk.

"In accordance with procedure, Cyberlife has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators assigned android cases."

"Why? It's never happened before," she states in confusion.

"The company seems to think my assistance would be needed now," Connor replies.

"Okaaay. Vague much? But. Whatever," she brushes off, yawning and covering her mouth with the back of one hand. Connor is somewhat concerned by her state of mind in regards to the alcohol she'd consumed.

"Detective. Are you sure you're sober enough to be working?" he asked, wanting nothing to mess up the investigation.

"Psh. Hehe," she grins, which further concerns him. "Yeah. Don't worry. You're lucky you caught me early on. Guess I wanted to be sober enough to watch the game…I'll just catch it later, I guess," she sighs irritably. Connor does not reply.

They arrive at the address, and park near the correct house number. Before leaving the vehicle, Amy leaned back at what Connor thought would have been a painful angle, for her, to grab her brown, leather jacket. She exits the car, and Connor follows suit. She shrugs on her jacket, fixes her black, wavy hair out of the cloth and free back onto her mid-back and shoulders. The weather was moist and cool that November night.

Amy and Connor walk past the yellow, linear hologram, that replaced yellow-tape. "Hey, Max," Amy, in a friendly manner, greeted the cop near the entryway.

"Hey, Amy. Night off?" he smiled back.

"Not anymore," she smirks irritably. Max then notices Connor, and furrows his eyebrows.

"What's that thing doing with you?" he asks. Amy thought calling Connor 'thing' was rude (she was never a fan of how people treated androids, but that was because she refused to fully comprehend they were machines with tasks, nothing more).

"His name is Connor, and he's with me, Max, so be nice," she told, walking past the officer, whom Connor eyed blankly as he followed.

They approached the open, one-story house door, the grounds around littered with forensic workers and officers, collecting evidence, keeping the area clear.

They are then guided in by a 49-year-old detective named Ben Collins, who debriefed the two on the situation. The victim was a 29-year-old man: Carlos Ortiz. He was stabbed to death 28 times in his living room, seated on the ground with his back to the wall. The victim's body was discovered by his landlord when he had come demanding rent. Ortiz had a criminal record of theft and aggravated assault. His neighbors reported him as an isolated man.

The stench of rot and decay was condensed within the apartment, strong, but surely stronger-to-get should the body remain in place. It was something Amy's nose was used to though, being a cop for ten years. Connor was indifferent towards the smell, but could still acknowledge it.

There, the victim lied, admits a mess-ridden apartment dimly lit and crowded with personal. The most eye-catching detail, was the wall behind Ortiz's body. There, written in red paint, or blood, were the words: 'I am alive'. Amy and Connor approached the body. She kneeled down to observe it, accepting the pair of gloves being handed to her by one of the officers. The body was fat, splayed with blood and multiple stab-wounds to the chest and abdomen. The skin was a ghostly grey, even the eyes. "Looks like he's been here for a while…Two, three weeks," Amy comments analytically.

"Yes, that's what I guessed as well. We'll know more when the coroner gets here," Ben retorts, then faces a piece of evidence on the ground. "There's a kitchen knife over here. Probably the murder weapon." Connor walks over to said weapon as Amy asks:

"Any sign of a break-in?"

"Nope. The landlord said the front door was locked from the inside. All the windows were boarded up. The killer must have gone out the back way," Ben replies. As she eyed around, and caught sight of Connor kneeling to eye the knife, she asked the question triggered by his presence, and the memory of what he'd said when they first met.

"What about his android? He had an android, right?" she asks.

"Yep. The neighbors confirmed it, but he wasn't here when we arrived. Hhh, I'm, uh, gonna go get some air," Ben gave, seeming exasperated suddenly. He rushed out just as Amy turned to catch what Connor was doing.

"Wow! Wow. **What**. Are you doing?!" she asks in utter bewilderment as the android pulled his middle and index finger away from his tongue after licking them with the blood on the knife.

"I'm analyzing the blood," he casually replies. "I can check samples in real time." Amy continues to eye him wildly. Sensing her discomfort, Connor says: "I'm sorry. I should've warned you."

"…Yeah. Just…God, don't put any more evidence your mouth. That's disgusting!" she states, walking off to look around. Connor does not agree on her opinion; he doesn't see the problem, but complies for now.

She finds herself by table-shelf, with cans and paper-wraps and all sorts of rubbish, and what seemed to be bagged Red-Ice, tagged as evidence number three. Looked like the victim did drugs. Amy cringes in disgust. "The handwriting on the wall is that of an android's, and the lack of finger-prints on the murder weapon confirms it," Connor says. She faces his stand, and walks to his side near the body.

"You think his android did it?" she thinks aloud.

"It is most probable."

"Why? Can they even do that?"

"It is very rare, but some androids do deviate from their programming."

"That is a serious problem. Is your company aware?" she asks in an accusing tone, facing Connor and crossing her arms. Sensing her tone, Connor faces her as well.

"Of course they are, detective. That is why I am here. They are working to insure the problem ceases to reoccur," he informs. His answer seems to satisfy her, though she is still concerned by the fact that a man is dead because the company can't actually guarantee his safety with their product.

"I'm gonna go look at the exit point," she says, turning and heading for the back door.

"Excellent suggestion," Connor states. Amy was confused to hear a smile to his tone, and turns to actually find he is smiling calmly at her. She brushes it off and carries on. Connor was simply trying to facilitate their current partnership, and in his data was proof that smiles often worked for so.

Amy steps out onto the back porch. It was suddenly drizzling outside with light rain. Amy crouched to look at the muddy lawn for footprints. Connor, who was stood behind her, kneels to her side and studies the area. She sees his brows are furrowed as if in confusion, and when he speaks up, she finds out why. "There are no footprints apart from officer Collins's size ten shoes," he says. It takes Amy a minute to comprehend that he'd managed to somehow know that, as she herself assumed they were the culprit's.

"So? This happened weeks ago. Tracks could have faded," she says, rising with interest diminished with the outside, evidence-lacking area.

"No," Connor rejects, still in crouched position. "This type of soil would've retained a trace," he rises as well and faces her with a meaningful look. "Nobody's been out here for a long time," he says. The light rain had sprinkled droplets on both their cheeks and hair.

"So, what're you saying? The killer, the android, is still here?" she asks in a mocking tone. Connor flashes a look inside.

"It's a probability," he gives. Amy absorbs the possibility.

"Let's go look in the kitchen. Seems to be where all the ruckus went down," she says, and heads back inside.

The two walk back in and take in the evidence in the room. Bit by bit, they managed to deduce that it was the victim, who was probably high on the Red-Ice Amy had found, that had attacked first the android, whose blue, Thirium blood was splattered in regions. Then, it seemed, and though it shouldn't have, the android attempted to defend itself using the knife, ending in a brutal murder due to 28 stabs, in the living room.

Amy grimaced at the situation.

To push a seemingly emotionless android off edge with physical abuse.

She always hated the physical abuse cases.

But, then again, maybe that wasn't the exact order of things. The most probable theory, yes, that it was the victim who attacked first, but it was just a theory. Who knows what the android might have done to provoke its owner.

After concluding almost the exact events to occur the day of the murder, the two made their way to the bedroom, which held nothing of interest, then, finally, the bathroom,

and that was where things got weird.

There, in the shower's walls, scrapped into the tile, was the mysterious word: Ra9, repeated almost 70 times. "What the heck is Ra9?" asks Amy.

"…I'm not sure…But it was written a hundred and thirteen times," replies Connor. Amy turns to him in surprise.

"Damn…" she utters. "And what's that supposed to be?" she kneels down and rises with an arm's length clay-statue in her hand, of a person of some sort. "Looks like some…weird religious offering…And our victim doesn't strike me as a religious guy." She locks onto Connor's focused gaze. "Any bright ideas?" she asks slyly. Connor faces her rather than the statue.

"Maybe it was the android," he offers.

"Why? Do you guys worship…anything?" she weirdly asks.

"No," Connor replies. She shakes her head, placing the statue back down.

"This case just keeps getting weirder and weirder," she comments.

At the bathroom's threshold, she stops. "What is it, detective?" Connor asks from behind her. Amy moves forward towards the wall opposite the bathroom, where there seemed to be traces of a ladder once resting against the wall.

"There was a ladder here," she says, brushing the marks with her fingers lightly, then suddenly eyes the ceiling. "This place has an attic," she states. Connor looks up as well. She suddenly faces him. "Looks like there's a chance you were right after all," she says.

"About what, detective?" he asks curiously. She approaches him to two feet away.

"The android might still be here," she smirks as if in amusement. Connor does not catch the humor in the circumstance as she rushes past him to the kitchen and pulls over a chair, despite one from forensic complaining about her moving of evidence.

She puts the chair to the attic's hatch, climbs onto it, pushes open the hatch, and hauls herself up.

Connor follows suit.

It is pitch dark above, with only the dim light from the attic's small window on the opposite side, only visualizing the shadows of the numerous clutter in the room. Amy brought out her flashlight from her jacket's deep pocket that also had her cuffs, and gun in the other. She clicks the flashlight on, eyeing around suspiciously. Not one foot in, and both her and Connor are shocked by the swift and sudden movement of a figure at the end near that small window. She pulls out her gun and treads carefully with Connor behind her.

They reach the other side, take a second, and jump to face the corner.

And there, opposite them,

was Ortiz's android…

He seemed in a damaged state. There were holes in his forehead. Actual holes. His clothes were tattered and smudged at places, in blood.

He seemed terrified of them.

Utterly terrified.

Looking into its eyes, was like looking into that of a scared child's.

Amy was then instinctively certain it was Ortiz who'd attacked first.

"Hey. It's okay," she says, slowly and tensely putting her gun away, not wanting to further scare the dark-skinned, bald, thin android male any further. "I'm not gonna hurt you," she says. She sees his eyes snap to Connor, who eyes him in a wariness for any sudden movement. "He's a friend. An android, like you," she smiles. Connor found it foolish of her to state so, considering his mission was to take down the likes of emotion-driven deviants. "What's your name?" she kindly asks.

"…Michael," the android quietly replies, seemingly trusting her somewhat.

…Connor is impressed.

"Michael. Hi. I'm Amy. And this is Connor. We just wanna ask you a few questions. Is that okay?" she asks. The android, Michael, seems hesitant. He faces the ground and suddenly begins to cry. Amy's chest aches, and Connor is wondering if he should call for back up already. "Hey, it's okay," she says, reaching carefully to touch its shoulder. Michael jumps and flitches, getting the duo on their toes. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry," she says. "Look. I won't touch you. But, would you please come down with me, so we can get out of here. Talk somewhere less…dark…and smelly," she smiles humorously. "Okay? Michael?" she pushes softly.

…Slowly…

…Michael nods.

XXX

"Hey, Hank. You home yet?" Amy asks. They are back in the car, driving to the police station with a patrol car behind them containing the android in custody. "…Good. Hope you didn't have too much fun without me…Yes! I knew we'd win!" she exclaims. Connor is slightly taken aback by her outburst on the phone. He eyes her curiously.

It was part of his job to learn how to adapt and fit in with humans in order to work with them.

"…Yeah, still…I'll tell ya tomorrow. Just thought I'd make sure you're not chugging down Jimmy's stash…Haha. Very funny…Night, Hank," she finishes, hanging up calmly and shoving the phone to her side carelessly.

"…You and lieutenant Anderson seem close, though you are not related," Connor states, who, to Amy, seemed quite blunt or oblivious to the fact that that was normal.

"Yeah. I've known him for ten years. He was my mentor. Albeit a strict one, but he's taught me a lot," she smiles pleasantly.

"I see," Connor says, taking this in as a suitable explanation for their behavior. There is an awkward silence afterwards that Amy doesn't appreciate, so she makes up conversation.

"So. How long do you plan on sticking around?" she asks casually. Connor faces her again.

"Until its case closed and the android is returned to Cyberlife for assessment," he replies.

"Really? Sure you're not sticking around? We could use someone with your on-spot analytic abilities," she smirks.

"I'm afraid I'm only permitted to stay as long as my superiors allow me," Connor tells.

"Huh. You know, maybe I could talk Fowler into getting them to let you stick around. Thing is, and considering, no offense of course, one of you just killed a guy, you wouldn't exactly be welcome around the station," she strangely says.

"Understandable, detective. But, if you must know, most cases of deviancy occur when an android is under extreme emotional or mental pressure. I am programmed to adjust under such cases, and it is highly unlikely I may ever deviate."

"Emotional? I thought androids don't feel."

"They don't. They're not meant to. It's a coding glitch in their software," Connor says.

"Riiight," Amy is unconvinced.

They arrive at the station, and their discussion is cut short.

XXXXX


	2. 2: The Interrogation

"…Michael. We've been at this for nearly ten minutes now. You have to give me something," Amy tries. She, with Michael opposite her, was in one of the interrogation rooms back at the precinct.

"…" he says nothing, head tilted down, refusing to meet her, or anyone else's, eyes since he'd gotten there, maybe since he'd left the attic.

"…" she waits, losing patience with every passing second as all she was, was confused.

"…" he does not speak.

"Damn it, Michael!" she suddenly shouts, trying a different tactic. "I can't help you if you won't talk!" she tells strictly. He doesn't even flinch.

From behind the one-faced mirror, watched officer Chris Miller, and Connor, who was as annoyed by the lack of progress as she was.

"…" Still, Michael says nothing. She sticks her tongue to the side of her cheek in frustration, then rises to her feet, letting the metallic chair screech across the tiled floor, and eyeing for a reaction; he gave her none. She approached the door, one hand on the knob, and looked to see if he would finally give in, waited…

…

…Nothing.

She opened the door and walked out.

Connor watched expectantly the door to where he was, till she opened it and stormed in right towards him, arms crossing in tension. "I don't get it. Is he…broken, or something? He's completely unresponsive. Is it something…mechanical?" she asks.

"No, detective. His pupils are responsive. He blinks. He breathes. He simply refuses to cooperate," Connor explains. Officer Miller glances between them, and Michael, curiously.

"Great. So what do we do?" she irritably asks.

"…I could try questioning him." At first, Amy seemed a little insulted that Conner thought he could up her good-cop-bad-cop routine, but, taking into consideration that Connor was, as Michael, an android, it might very well work. Her posture loosens and she flaps her arms.

"Okay. Go ahead," she nods.

XXX

Connor steps into the room. He fixes Amy's chair before sitting on it. On the table is a file regarding the case, unopened, as Amy hadn't gotten the chance to use it when she decided to confirm from Connor that the android was still functioning.

Connor leans forward with his elbows, hands clenched together across him. Michael hadn't moved a muscle yet. "Michael. You are being highly uncooperative. If you stay your course, I'm going to have to probe your memory-"

"No!" shouts Michael, locking onto Connor's eyes, and shocking Amy and Chris in the process.

"Seriously?" asks a frustrated Amy from behind the glass. Only Chris hears her, and he doesn't say anything, too captivated by the show.

"No. Please. Don't do that," begs Michael. He then, with full body shaking, faces the glass, gaze afar as he says: "What…What are they gonna do to me?" he asks. He looks to Connor with that same look of fear that had been a plain nothingness since they'd left the attic. "They're…They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?"

Connor is then reminded by the situation he'd handled a couple weeks back with the PL600 android named Daniel who'd threatened to throw his owner's daughter off the roof after discovering he was to be replaced. It was…an unpleasant case, even for Connor as an android…especially after he'd managed to earn Daniel's trust, and the SWAT team shot him down regardless when the little girl was safe.

He'd lie again now, Connor, to extract a confession, an explanation, from Michael, knowing that what he'd said was exactly what was going to happen to him.

"If you cooperate, no. They just want to understand…They know your master abused you…They know it's not your fault," he lies, LED color unchanging as it was programed not to function when he was in need of lying. Only him though, or his model at least. Amy and Chris have no reason **not** to believe what Connor had said, and neither does Michael. In fact, Amy is a little taken aback by Connor's so sympathetic and…human way of speaking when looking to Michael. She is unaware it is a part of his programming.

Michael faces the table's cold, metallic surface. Finally, he speaks. "…He tortured me every day…I did whatever he told me, but, there was always something wrong…Then one day…he took a bat and started hitting me," Michael tells as if in denial. Amy feels tension place hands on her shoulders. Ten years and she could never get used to cases like these, the ones where people are pushed so far over the edge like this. "…For the first time, I felt…scared…" Connor is, again, at a loss wondering where emotions came from to androids, how it was possible for them to feel envy, or fear, or anything at all. What did it mean to be scared? "Scared he might destroy me, scared I might **die**…So I…grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach…I felt better…So I stabbed him again, and **again**, until he collapsed…There was blood everywhere…"

"…And then you hid, in the attic?" Connor pushes calmly.

"Yes…"

"Why? Why didn't you run?"

"I didn't know what to do…For the first time, there was no one there to tell me…I was scared, so I hid…"

"…In the bathroom, there was a statue, and the word RA9 on the wall. Did you do that?"

"Yes."

"Why? What does it mean? What is RA9?"

"'The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves…'" Though Connor acknowledged every word, attempting to process how these thoughts come to an android, why, the meaning they held, never really set in, but it was there, a floating cloud in his mind he didn't think he'd be able to shake away. Michael resumed: "No more threats. No more humiliation. We **will**. Be. The masters…" The statement concerns all listeners, Connor feeling his mission increase in difficulty, Amy and Chris feeling threatened as a race.

"And the sculpture?"

"It's an offering…An offering so I'll be saved…"

"An offering to whom?"

"To RA9…Only RA9 can save us," it seemed then that Michael was as if attempting to rally Connor into his team or something. This further concerned Amy.

"Who is he? Who is RA9?!" Connor insists.

He doesn't get an answer…

He sees Michael's LED momentarily switch to a furious red. Worried of what might happen, he cuts it there.

He'd asked all that was needed, and if the android remains alive, Cyberlife may find the answers with less risky ways.

Connor looks to the glass. "I'm done," he says.

"Alright, let's go, Chris," Amy beckons. The officer rises from his chair and follows her into the next room.

Amy steps in first, and comes face to face with Connor. She gives him a smile-well-done, that he retaliates without entirely comprehending what she'd meant by it. At the sound of grunting, the two turn to see Michael rejecting the cuffs. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" Connor quickly nears them.

"Don't touch it. It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened," their eyes widen at that. "We need it alive," Connor says in a nervous tone. Miller looks to Amy uncertainly, who glances at Connor warily. He locks onto her gaze. "Please, detective," he quietly says.

Reluctantly, Amy looks to Chris. "Do as he says. He knows them better than we do," she tells. Chris gives a firm nod, and Connor nods back at him gratefully.

"It'll follow you out of the room, and won't cause any trouble," Connor informs. He then looks to Michael, who, after a minute, finally climbs to his feet, and slowly, carefully, walks out of the desk, and forward.

All along the way, he holds gaze with Connor, and when near enough, he whispers, though all could hear: "The truth is inside."

Connor eyes him in confusion, as do the rest. Miller guides him outside, the door left open. Connor's gaze is still fixed outside, brows still furrowed. "You okay?" asks Amy, and for a moment,

she wondered:

_'Did they all feel?'_.

As if snapped out of his daze by her question, Connor faced her plainly. "Yes, detective. I'm fine," he says. She nods doubtfully.

"Okay, well, I'm calling it a night. Come on. Where do you live? I'll drop you off," she says.

"Oh. No, detective. That is not necessary-"

"I insist," she smiles mischievously. "There's a lot I wanna talk to you about, so come on."

XXX

"Okay, so. Where do you live? You do…stay somewhere, right?" Amy strangely asks as she closes the car's door and starts the vehicle.

"Yes, detective. Cyberlife has assigned me a room at the Stay In hotel."

"Ah. Cool. That's not far from where I live," she smirks, driving out the parking lot.

"Indeed it is," he confirms. She is unaware he actually knows where she lives. It was in her file, and he could pull up files simply by analyzing a person's face.

A few minutes in, and Amy finally decides it was as good a time as any to ask the questions she'd mentally listed down the minute Connor succeeded in getting the android to talk. "What did you mean when you told Michael you were gonna probe his memory?" she asks, eyes fixated on the road as she drove along the empty streets past midnight.

"Cyberlife, and my model, are able to access the memories of other androids by force when necessary," he replies. Amy cringes.

"Sheesh. That's gotta be ugly," she comments. Connor cranks his head in question.

"It is actually a very simple process," he retorts.

"I meant, ugly as in…inappropriate…Not nice," she tries. Connor processes this.

"No. I suppose not," he says, though not entirely comprehensive of her emotion-driven perspective.

Several minutes of silence passed as Amy went over the interrogation in her head, certain there was more she'd wanted to know. "Ah!" she suddenly exclaims in recollection. Connor turns to her strangely. "You said he'd self-destruct. Can he actually do that?! Blow up!" she asks in shock. Connor smiles in amusement.

"No, detective. What I meant was that he would attempt to destroy himself," he clarifies.

"Oh…Like, committing suicide?"

"In a way, yes."

"Wow…"

"I understand this is all very new to you, detective-"

"No. Not new. I've just, never explored the vice qualities of androids. Murder, deviating, that whole RA9, occult business, is just very weird coming from androids. No offense," she lightly smirks at him. He retorts it.

"None taken."

XXXXX


	3. 3: Partner Up

"She'll be here any minute now," officer Wilson tells Connor, who was at the precinct ten the next morning, waiting for Amy, whom he was told, by Cyberlife, was to be his new partner until the world-wide spreading deviancy situation is understood and put to a stop. Connor nods at him, and seats himself on the chair opposite her desk. There was another, seemingly unequipped desk with its back to hers.

He would've called Amy to ask how long she had left to get there, considering he knew her number, but refrained when his eyes caught sight of the contents of her desk's surface. Since he understood that for a partnership to go smoothly, common-ground needed to be found. Though Amy seemed friendly enough to have Connor assume it wouldn't be hard, **still**, out of a curiosity he wasn't entirely aware he had, he studied her work area.

He rose to his feet and casually stepped towards the space. The first thing that caught his attention was the picture stuck with a pin to the desk's half-wall. Scanning it, he was able to determine the two figures on either sides of a twenty-three, at the time, year old Amy, were her foster parents, well, one of the three she'd been passed around to since birth. These ones seemed to be her final stop, as they were her foster parents since 2021 to 2032, when they were killed in a car accident.

Hmm. That wasn't a topic he thought she'd appreciate discussing. He moved on. To the edge of the desk was a white mug with a brown, cartoon cat licking her paw, and several pens and pencils within, rather than drinkable liquid. Maybe she liked cats, or maybe she was just looking for something to hold her pens. Funny, how her desk was personally decorated, and yet, he could not come close to guessing her interests.

Ah, wait! She was hyped about the game the night before. Good. Sports. There's something. And the lieutenant. Lieutenant Anderson. He was there. Maybe he could ask her about him, just for conversation. And maybe he could ask Hank about her. "Hey!" He turns at the voice to find Amy smiling at him, though her emerald-green eyes were suspicious as to what he was doing.  
"Detective," he greeted, smiling back.

"What are you doing here? There aren't any new cases," she states, thin brows furrowed.

"Actually, detective, there is. An AX400 attacked its owner last night and disappeared with the child," he explains. Amy listens halfheartedly as she shrugged off her same jacket and rounded Connor to hang it on the wheeled chair. Connor continued: "Officers on patrol are on the lookout, and we-"

"We who?" she asks curiously, facing him then.

"You and myself, detective," Connor elaborates.

"Wow. Hold up. Missing persons isn't my department," she says. Connor furrows his brows at her.

"Have you not been informed, detective?" he asks. She mimics his expression and confusion.

"Dowson!" a deep voice booms. Amy turns to face Captain Jeffery Fowler at his office's threshold, holding open the glass door as he called her. "My office," he beckoned, heading back inside.

"Yeah," she nods, skipping over to him obediently.

XXX

"Yeah, cap?" she asks.

"Dowson. I'm putting you off homicide for now. I want you to lead the investigations involving androids," he tells. Amy, who was stood across Fowler from his desk where he was seated, widens her eyes at him, mouth agape.

"Wha-Are you serious?"

"Do you see me laughing?" Fowler retorts, unamused as he sipped from his coffee and half faced his holographic computer.

"Well, it's just…Why? I mean, because of last night? That was one case. What's going on?" she asks. Just then, Connor steps in as well. Both acknowledge his presence, and Amy can sense Connor held the answer she sought.

"We're not sure yet. All I can tell you is that I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day," Fowler continues. Connor makes his way to the corner of the room, arms crossed as he listened in. "Yes, we've always had isolated incidents. Old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap, but now, we're getting reports of assaults, and even homicides like that guy yesterday. This isn't just Cyberlife's problem anymore," Jeffery points a look at Connor, causing Amy to do the same. He eyed them back plainly as Fowler resumed: "It's now a criminal investigation and we've got a deal with it before the shit hits the fan. So, I want you to investigate the cases, and see if there's any link."

"Fowler, are you sure I'm the best person for this job? I barely know anything about androids. Ask him," she smirks Connor's way, who retaliates it for the sake of humoring her. Jeffery sighs.

"Everyone's overloaded, Amy. I think you're perfectly qualified to handle this. Cyberlife sent this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype; it'll act as your partner," he says. Amy looks at Connor as if in consideration.

Her career was about to take an unexpected turn, and something told her it wasn't gonna be easy.

XXX

"Alright. Desk's empty. Knock yourself out," she says, gesturing at the desk opposite her.

"Thank you, detective," Connor says.

"Oh, please stop calling me that. We're partners now; call me Amy," she tells, smiling. He smiles back.

"Okay, Amy." Her smiles widens contently.

"Okay, well. I'm gonna go get a coffee. Do you, uhhhhhh,"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"Okay…" she continues to stand there, brows furrowed. He eyes her expectantly, seated on the opposite desk. "Can you even drink stuff?" she curiously asks, causing Connor to smirk.

"Yes. But it neither benefits nor harms my bioorganic components," he explains.

"Ah…Good to know," she smirks in amusement, then heads to the small cafeteria section.

Connor faces the terminal opposite him and switches it on. He brings out former deviant cases and begins to study them. The only link that seemed, until then, apparent was that deviancy was trigged by emotional shock, or what Connor interprets as numerous conflicting commands that causes an android to malfunction and behave unpredictably.

It was happening far more often those days, and so was presented a link they were yet to discover.

The night before's interrogation raised a lot of questions. Who was RA9? Where did the prophecy of android freedom come from? What was brewing in the shadows that triggered an increased amount of deviants, and why then?

Amy walked back with a steaming plastic cup in hand held by her fingertips at the edge. She sat herself down with a sigh and started her terminal as well, doing what Connor was doing.

A few minutes passed, and Connor decided he'd try and have their relationship grow, considering the investigation might take a while. Not like the case files were going anywhere. "So, Amy. I understand you're concerned about the limitation of your knowledge regarding androids. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?" he asks. Amy's eyes snap to meet his. The start of his statement snatched at the previous night's memory, when she'd wondered if they could all, in a way, feel.

She leans forward "Are you trying to start up a conversation with me, Connor?" she asks slyly. His brows furrow.

"Yes. Does that bother you?"

"No. I'm just wondering why."

"Well, I thought it would be best if we got to know one another, in order to facilitate our partnership," he says. Amy doesn't seem entirely satisfied with his answer. He is not fully able to read her expression, which somewhat concerned him, considering how open she was the night before.

"And, by 'thought', you mean it's what you're programmed to do," she comments. Connor was still having a hard time understanding where she was going.

"I was programed to adapt to human behavior in order to be able to work better among them," he says.

"Hm," she cocks an eyebrow. "Well, yes. I guess it's a good idea to get to know one another better, just not here-Ah, finally!" she exclaims, gaze suddenly fixated behind Connor. He looks to see Lieutenant Anderson. "He graces us with his presence," she grins sarcastically.

"Ah, whatever," Hank groans tiredly, seeming to be in a mess, but, then again, he didn't look any sharper the night before.

"Hey, Hank. Listen. You're not gonna believe this. I just got assigned to deviancy," she says, turning on her chair to face him as he walked to his desk behind her and flopped down.

"To what, now?"

"Deviants. Deviant androids."

"Oh. Wait, why?"

"Apparently, they think its escalating, and needs attention."

"They who?"

"Fowler, and Cyberlife," she says, gesturing a hand at Connor, who flashes Hank a smile. Hank raises a grey, bushy brow at him.

"So they send over an android…to deal with androids…That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he leans back in his chair and eyes the ceiling.

"Actually, Connor's very efficient on field. And he's my new partner," Amy tells.

"Haha!" Hank laughs out. "Fowler stuck you with that?!" he looks to Amy, grinning in gloat. Amy scowls at him. She faces Connor.

"Remember how I told you these guys weren't gonna make it easy on you?" she smirks at him. Connor does not get a chance to reply. "Don't worry. I got your back."

She faces Hank again. "Hank. Apologize to my partner," she says humorously.

"How about: Screw you both," Hank smirks. Amy scoffs. She turns to Connor once more.

"I have no authority here," she says sarcastically, causing Connor to smirk in amusement.

"Detective! I have information on the AX400 that attacked its owner last night. It's been seen in the Ravendale district," officer Miller informs, approaching the three. Connor turns to Amy, and she catches his gaze. She smirks.

"Alright. Let's go catch us another deviant," she slaps the chair's armrests, gets to her feet as Connor, and slings her jacket onto her shoulder.

The two head to follow Miller, but Hank grabs Amy's arm gently and stops her. Connor stops as well and faces the two curiously. "Be careful around this one. I don't trust his kind," he whispers to her, all the while glaring at Connor, who was confused and couldn't hear anything. Amy, knowing why Hank spoke so of androids, nods firmly at him, and smiles.

"I'm always careful, Hank." He gives her a disbelieving look, but releases her, and she and Connor head to leave.

XXXXX


	4. 4: What That Means

"We've got officers sweeping the neighborhood, in case anybody saw anything," Collins informs Amy

"Okay, good," she nods, then fixes her gaze on Connor, who was standing near the minimarket, seemingly in thought.

She approached him. Light rain fell from the gray skies. Amy had her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, and her jacket zipped. Connor was wearing the same thing he was wearing the night before. "Hey. What do you think?" she asks.

"It took the first bus that came along. And stayed at the end of the line. Its decision wasn't planned…It was driven by fear," he said.

"Okay, so: no plan. Nowhere to go. It couldn't have gone very far," she says, placing her hands on her hips, her gaze soaring through the surrounding buildings,

then,

she fixes it in one spot. She nods with her head. Connor turns to see a seemingly abandoned house at the other side of the street.

XXX

"There's blue blood on the fence," Connor points out, passing through the fence that were cut through by some tool. Amy passes after him and straightens her posture.

"Blue blood means androids, right?" she asks.

"Indeed," Connor confirms.

Amy pulls out her gun, and the two slowly begin towards the house.

Rounding the building, Amy approaches one of the boarded up windows. Carefully, she leans forward and peeks in. She fixes herself and turns to face Connor, who was right behind her, causing her to tense up upon recalling Hank's warning. She shakes it off as she says: "There's an android inside." Connor's features harden in wariness and concentration.

They continue.

Finally at the door, Amy grabs the knob, slowly turns it, and steps in.

Near the fireplace, and a table with three chairs, was a damaged-looking, blonde, male android. Amy and Connor carefully approach him. The android is standing perfectly still, though seemingly tense and shaking, even his LED was an anxious, spinning yellow. Amy leans in to Connor. "Is that an AX400?" she asks quietly, unable to see its label from that distance.

"No," he replies.

"Okay."

She approaches the android, raising her both empty and gun-wielding hand up. "Hi. My name is Amy. What's yours?" she asks him.

"Ralph. My name is Ralph," the android, who, on closer view, had his right cheek brutally slashed open, so was above his right brow, and his right eye was blue all over and seemed impaired. Amy frowns.

"Hi, Ralph," she calls, holstering her gun at her side so as to reach it more easily if needed. "Are you okay? You're hurt," she starts.

Connor eyes around. The table had three empty plates on it. He immediately assumes there were two other members present. There was a bed-set across the fireplace. Connor looks to the android. "Ralph was in an accident," he replies, causing Amy to raise a brow as he was referring to himself in third-person.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Ralph," she says halfheartedly. Connor analyzes the android able to determine him as a model WR600 gardener, and his serial number. He then studies the android's LED activity, and his extreme tension suggests to Connor that either he and Amy intimidated Ralph, or there was someone he was covering for, and didn't want getting caught.

There was a chance the AX400 and the child were still there.

"Listen, I'm sure you don't want us disturbing you. We just have a few questions we want you to help us with. Is that okay?" Amy asks. Ralph visually hesitates, gaze momentarily glancing to the side.

"O-Okay…"

Both Amy and Connor catch this. Amy faces Connor, glaring a message at him as she almost unnoticeably pushed her head at the direction. Miraculously getting it, Connor slowly heads towards where the android had gazed. A staircase.

Whilst investigating, Amy worked at distracting Ralph and asking more question. "We're looking for an AX400. It attacked its owner last night and kidnapped his child," she explains.

That very second,

the stairs creak,

but not the stairs themselves that Connor was about to climb, **beneath** the stairs.

Connor descends the step. "There's no one here! No one but Ralph!" Ralph insists. Amy turns to him. She fakes a smile.

"It's okay. I believe you," she lies.

As Connor approaches the apparently hollow, underside of the stairs,

two figures jump him!

And, at the **same** second! Ralph tries to go after Connor. Amy manages to firmly keep him in place using her arms as Connor attempted to get to his feet, and rush after the figures fleeing towards the kitchen backdoor.

Ralph's weight manages to push Amy off him. He gives her a kick to the stomach, and she topples to the floor. Hearing the commotion, other officers enter the scene, and too aim their guns at Ralph as Amy was. Realizing his life was at an end, he growls, and attempts to charge at them unarmed, causing the panicked officers to shoot…

"Shit!" Amy hisses in frustration at the outcome. She scuttled to her feet and out the backdoor to find Connor.

She ran as fast as her feet could take her, stopping only to ask colleagues where he'd went.

She catches him about to climb a high wire fence over to the highway and yells: "Stop!" He turns to face her.

"Detective, they're getting away!" he exclaims. She halts beside him, practically breathless. She looks to the highway.

Cars moving at lightning speed nonstop,

and the female AX400 along with the little girl were oh-so-foolishly attempting to cross.

"You'll get yourself killed! God, what are they doing?!" she exclaims quietly, grasping the fence and eyeing the two in disbelief.

Again, Connor attempts to climb the fence. She slaps a hand on his shoulder and clenches his coat. "Damn it, Connor! Do you **have** a death wish?!" she shouts. He snaps his eyes to hers, clear anger within them, which kind of concerns her. She removes her hand, and looks to see they'd managed to cross…Connor sighs.

XXX

"We could've gotten them," Connor says. It had been a few minutes since they'd gotten into the car, on their way back to the station after having nothing left at the scene.

"Yeah, and you could've died. Do you understand that?" she asks, quiet irritably.

"**They** didn't!"

"That was a chance out of **ten**! There was nothing **strategic** about it!"

He tears his gaze away, back to the window as he put his elbow on the door handle and clenched his fist. Though needing to keep her eyes on the road, she consistently glances at him, before finally deciding to point it out. "You know, for an android, you're showing a lot of emotional frustration right now," she smirks. Connor turns to her once more, this time with a perplexed, somewhat taken aback look.

"I am merely disappointed at not having accomplished my mission," he plainly states.

Amy doesn't buy it, but doesn't push it.

However, she decides to voice a theory.

"You know, it might sound stupid, but I don't think any of your kind are actually void of emotions," she says.

"Of course. There are those who deviate, but I assure you, detective, I am no-"

"That's not what I meant. First off, I told you to quit calling me 'detective'. Second of all, I mean, I think every single android has the potential of deviating. Not the probability, the potential…I think your creators didn't know what they were doing, playing god and making people," she grimly says. Connor furrows his brows and tilts his head at her.

"They didn't make people, they made androids."

"Androids who are meant to do human stuff, androids who are so human-**like**? How the hell did they not expect that you'd eventually end up developing emotions too?" she wasn't actually asking, as she knew he probably didn't know. It does take him a minute to answer, and even then, it is mere speculation.

"Perhaps they did not take that into account," he says.

"Right. Well, now we're all paying for it," she says, deeply frowning. Connor frowns as well, unable to fully process the extent of that truth.

He could see how the humans suffered the consequence of deviating androids, but was that who she was referring to just? Humans? Or did she mean androids too? A part of him felt it was both.

XXX

Two hours later, Amy and Connor are at their desks, filling out reports on that day and the previous one's cases, as well as going through old case files. Hank suddenly rushes past them. "Hank! Found the guy?" she asks.

"Better have!" he gives, fixing his collar and storming off.

She falls back into her chair as she says: "He's been working the Red-Ice investigations for years. Always a new dealer to take down, a new joint to shut, a new formula to wipe out."

"It is an illegal, thriving business in Detroit," Connor retorts.

"Yeah."

"Hey, look who-no, I'm sorry-**what** it is. Our very own android bitch!" grins Gavin Reed, a 36-year-old detective, only five years older than Amy.

Both Amy and Connor face him, the former more irritably. "Back off, Reed," Amy demands, glaring heatedly at him.

"Aw, what's with the frownin'? He not satisfyin' ya right?" he asks coyly. Connor, of course, understood what he was referring to. It was not new for androids to be used sexually, and, as they are not human, it is not considered illegal prostitution.

"God, you're a pig," she says, cringing.

"Haha, cute. Very cute," he finishes, walking back and away.

"Fucking asshole. Just had to transfer to Detroit," she complains quietly.

"If it would save you trouble, you don't have to defend me, Amy. I can very well ignore him," Connor tells.

"Psh. Tried that. Bastard just keeps coming. Besides," she puts down her mug and locks onto his gaze, "we're partners. Gotta have your back," she winks and smirks. Connor sheepishly smiles back, pleased with her friendliness, and reminded of it when she'd kept him from crossing the fence, though he still thinks he should have.

At the end of the day, near departure, Amy recalls she didn't possess Connor's phone number. He gives it to her, and she is surprised he already knew hers. He explains that Fowler had given it to him. She then drops him off and heads home.

XXXXX


	5. 5: Get To Know You

_"Hey!"_ she called through the phone.

"Hello, Amy," answered Connor, who was curious as to why she was calling.

_"Hope I didn't wake you, uh, you do sleep, right?"_ she awkwardly asked. Connor smirks.

"In a sense, yes. Androids may enter a dormant state," he replies.

_"Cool, cool,"_ she dazes off with being reminded of her own words: 'androids who are so human-**like**'. She then snaps out of it, taking a turn down the street in her car. _"So, listen. I'm coming to pick you up in fifteen. Something I wanna show you,"_ she says. She manages to attain his curiosity. Regardless, an hour later, and he would have been at the station, so out an hour early was not an issue.

"Okay. I'll be ready."

XXX

"Is there another case?" he asks, seated beside her in the car, confused, as he would have known first if there was.

"Nope," she mischievously. He raises a brow.

"Then, where are we going?"

"Well, every now and then, I head out to the park, look at something other than files and killers. It's good for the soul," she smirks. Connor considers this, and accepts it as a piece of information about her, but does not see how it related to him. Glancing at him, she catches his unspoken question. "You said we ought to get to know each other, and I didn't think the office was a social place, so, we're going to the park, oh, and, also. I got you coffee," she gestures to the double cup-holder under the head unit, where there were two Drummer Diner foam coffee cups. "I know you said it doesn't do anything for you, but, you know, so you don't feel left out," she says.

"Amy. I don't feel anything," Connor reminded as though humorously explaining to a child.

"Whatever you say, Connor. But. I call that bullshit," she chuckles.

"It is not-"

"I swear to God, Connor, I am not arguing with you about this again!" she chuckles again, shutting him down gently.

"Very well," he brushes off. Let her think what she wants to.

"Here we are."

XXX

Leaned against the railing and looking onto the Detroit river, they stood. The weather was cool with a hint of warm eleven that morning, and the park was quiet enough, though not void of life.

"What does that taste like to you?" she asks Connor, who'd just decided to take a sip of his drink.

"Coffee," he answers her evidently curious question.

"So, you can actually taste it?" Though her questions were persistent, Connor convinced himself it was her way of attempting to better understand androids, even though most of her questions were irrelevant.

"I can identify the components that define it as coffee, yes. And I can determine its temperature," he explains. Amy nods despite appearing confused. She couldn't tell if that meant he could actually taste it, or not. She asks a question sure to attain a clearer answer.

"So, do you like it?"

"…It's nice," he says. Still, she is unsatisfied, as she is unsure whether he says he likes anything simply to appease 'her kind'.

She inhales deeply, then turns to the river. Connor watched a smile rise to her thick, pink lips, the air blow strands of her brown, crispy hair from her freckled cheeks, the trees barely shading the sunrays kissing her skin, black shadows and white light dancing upon her face and lighting her green eyes brighter, her thumb slowly and repeatedly caressing the warm cup in her hand. For some reason, he finds he can't look away.

"What do you see when you look at it, Connor? The river," she asks. It takes him a second to acknowledge she'd said anything.

"I see…a body of water," he strangely says. She didn't expect anything else.

"Hm. Interesting," she comments, sipping her coffee. "Wanna know what I see?"

"Sure." She looks to the river once more.

"I see, waves, sparkles, the sun's reflection. I just. It's just so calming, and beautiful…like looking at a moving painting," she says.

Connor considers her words, and turns to the water with a new perspective. He saw what she saw too, and yes, it was…calming…It was, in a way, alluring.

"Yes, I suppose it is," he says. Amy bites her lower lip in amusement.

"Are you just agreeing with everything I say?" she asks.

"I-No…You're right. It does have a certain…allure to it," he says. Amy studies him carefully.

"Yeah? What else do you like? How long have you been around anyways?" she curiously asks.

"I was activated exactly twenty-seven days ago," he says. She is surprised by this. He was like a new born child. Then, her mind wonders about something else.

"Twenty-seven? That's long before the whole thing with Michael. Why so early on?"

"I was activated to deal with another deviant-related situation."

"Really? Another murder?"

"No," he furrows his brows, and Amy thinks it's in concentration, but he was merely disturbed at the memory. "It was a hostage situation. A PL600 turned to deviancy upon finding out he'd be replaced by another model. It threatened to throw its owner's daughter off the roof of the building. I was sent to negotiate with it," he finishes. Amy frowns.

"Damn…What did you do?" she asks.

"I managed to convince him to let her go, but as soon as she was safe, the sniper shot the deviant down."

"Wha-Just like that!"

"…Yes…I was surprised as well with the outcome," Connor states almost grimly as he faced the river, gaze drifted. Amy observes his expression, and could've sworn he seemed upset. She was fixed on her theory that all androids felt, and if she was to spend enough time with Connor, maybe he'd prove so to her.

"I'm sorry. Must have been hard, watching another android die in front of you like that," she says, wanting to see how he'd react to that. He faces her, and her eyes immediately capture the sight of his LED turning momentarily yellow before he said:

"Thank you, Amy," quite plainly. Maybe his answer was unsatisfactory, but his LED ratted him out. From what he'd told her about androids, she could tell he was indeed affected.

She decided she wasn't going to push anymore, and merely smiled at him.

She leans onto the railing with her back, and, for a few moments, her and Conner simply watch those passing by. A man jogging alongside his android who was holding his water for him. An android walking a dog. A father and his son at the playground. Later on, they see a woman walking by helping an older one over to a bench. They smiled and chatted happily. It seemed to be a daughter and her mother.

Connor hears Amy inhale beside him, and turns to see her frowning with gaze afar. His brows furrow. "Are you alright, Amy? Your heartrate has increased," he states. Amy faces him, a surprised look on her face.

"You can tell…that sorta stuff?" she asks.

"Yes." She smirks.

"Oh, ho. That's gonna be a problem," she chuckles, gulping down the remnants of her drink.

"How so?" Connor asks, concerned. She faces him once more.

Her mind automatically tied 'an increased heartrate' to nervousness, or admiration. Taking in Connor's features, from his pale skin, to his sharp cheekbones, warm brown eyes, the sprinkle of moles, and strands of hair teasing his forehead not only made him seem, in his own, clean-cut way, attractive, but also, so ridiculously human. Connor was curious as to why she was quiet, and why her heart was still rapidly beating as she stared back at him. She bites her lip again and shakes her head, looking away. "Never mind," she says. "Come on. Let's head to the station."

The rest of the day is uneventful. They wait for anything to come in, but nothing does. They look up anything related to RA9, deviants, and end up with very little. They spend most of the time either filling reports, or having Connor teach Amy more about androids.

XXXXX


	6. 6: Ultimatums

The day after, Amy picks Connor up again and drives them to the station. "You know, Amy. I can very well take a bus to the station," he reminds.

"Why do that when I can drive you there? You're on the way anyways."

"Actually, the detour you take to pick me up extends your arrival time at the station by thirteen minutes, more depending on traffic."

"Big deal. We're partners, Connor. Now quit whining about it," she smirks, causing Connor to smile at her attitude.

A while later at the station, Connor offers to get Amy, who looked bored and tired, a coffee. She thanked him and he headed for the cafeteria. Whilst brewing it, he was approached by detective Reed. Knowing what was coming, Connor forced a smile, carrying Amy's cup in his hand. "Detective Reed. Good morning," he greeted. Gavin grins maliciously.

"Well, if it isn't the walking computer. What are you doing with a coffee? Tryin' to fry your circuits?" he mocks.

"It's for detective Dowson," Connor retorts indifferently.

"Yeah? Well then why don't you get me one too?" he demands. Connor carefully calculates his answer.

"I'm sorry, I only answer to detective Dowson."

"Connor!" the two look to see Hank calling him. "Get over here," he says. Connor heads towards him and leaves Gavin, who was glaring irritably at Hank. Hank retorted the look of disgust as he guided Connor away. "The hell are you doing talking to that prick?" Hank asks as they head back towards Amy's.

"Detective Reed was the one to approach me," Connor explains.

"Yeah. No surprise."

"You guys bonding?" Amy grins upon seeing them approach her together.

"Ha! Not a chance. Make no mistake, android. I don't like you, and I don't give a fuck if you don't like me back," he tells Connor.

"Very well, lieutenant," Connor plainly replies. Amy rises, wanting to stretch her feet, and as if drawn to the coffee Connor was holding.

"Lay off, Hank. Quit bothering my partner," she tells. Connor, seeing her eye the cup, hands it to her. "Thanks, Connor," she says.

"**Temporary** partner," Hank reminds, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Actually, I was thinking, when all this blows off, I could maybe convince Fowler we need him around," she says. Hank glares heatedly at her and cringes his nose.

"Now why the fuck would you want that?" he asks.

"Well, he's pretty skilled. Why wouldn't I?" she retorts.

"Right. Next thing you know, the entire station will be full of em," Hank scowls.

"Seriously, Hank," Amy comments at his exaggeration, though it was a possibility.

"Whatever. Don't do anything stupid, Amy," Hank points an accusing finger at her, and she actually gets the sensation she's being scolded, second-guessing her former decision. Hank had that parental effect on her.

When he's at his desk, Amy looks to Connor. "Sorry about that," she says.

"It's fine, Amy. I understand," Connor smiles, heading back for his desk.

At around five, they get a report of a suspected deviant, and head out to investigate.

XXX

In the elevator to the sixth floor, stood Amy, eyeing the coin Connor was flicking expertly from hand to hand without dropping, beside her. She smirks. "That some sort of hobby, Connor?" she asks. Connor stops and turns to her, taking a minute to comprehend what she'd meant.

"Oh. The coin? No. I use it to calibrate my cognitive and physical functions," he explains. She eyes him strangely, wondering then if that was also part of his programming, or whether he simply chose to do it.

Her thoughts are cut short when the elevator dings to a stop and its door slides apart, leaving her to utter a simple: "Cool." Connor spares her a smile, and follows her down the hall of the apartment-block that was held on very low maintenance. The paint on the walls was starting to peel off. The ceiling was yellow-wet. The grounds were smeared with sticky dust, and as they moved towards the apartment suspected, they spot a stack of grey feathers to the side. "Are those feathers?" asks Amy weirdly. Connor kneels down to analyze them. He picks one between his thumb and index finger.

"Pigeons," he says.

"Here. Indoors?" she asks as he rises.

"It is strange," he agrees.

"Yeah."

She turns to the apartment door opposite. "This is it, right?" she asks.

"Yes," he replies.

"Okay," she pulls out her gun, then turns to him. "Do you have a gun?" she asks.

"No."

"Seriously? You're assigned to the station to fight against deviants and they don't give you a weapon?" she questions in disbelief.

"Our objective is to capture deviants, Amy. Not destroy them," he clarifies. She cocks a brow at him.

"Yeah? And if they come at you with a weapon? What are you gonna do then?" she asks quietly, tone displeased.

"I am programmed with several combat-"

"Okay, you know. Just stay behind me," she tells, too lazy to explain that his skills would be of no use should he be faced with a gun. Connor doesn't understand why she does not seem satisfied, but nods regardless as she faces the door.

She bangs the surface with her fist. "DPD! Open up!" she tells. Connor, though thinking her decision unwise, understood that she was just following procedure. Breaking in wasn't permitted without a warrant, or probable cause, so when they hear a crash inside, alongside speeding footsteps, the two share a knowing look before Amy steps back and breaks in the door with her leg.

They tread inside on caution, Amy taking lead as she pushed open every closed door in search for threats. First an empty bedroom, then another, till they finally reach the last one. At entry, they are swarmed by several dozen pigeons! Amy loses her footing from shock and the flapping wings in her face. "The fuck?!" she exclaims, and nearly falls back when Connor instinctively holds her up with both hands on her shoulders. Still worked up, her eyes snap to the side, and calm down when she sees his face, letting out a sigh of tension-release.

"Are you alright, Amy?" he asks. She smirks at her silliness.

"Yeah. Thanks, handsome," she breathes, straightening herself and stepping into the room. Connor's brows furrow. Did she just call him handsome? His looks were meant to appear calming so as to ease his friction with humans, yes. But handsome?

"Ugh. God, the place stinks!" she exclaims, covering her nose with the back of her free hand. Connor is snapped out of his thoughts. He steps in as well.

The area seemed to be a kitchen. All around were pigeons, most thankfully escaping out the narrow, open window. The apartment was a mess. There was a chair to one side and a closet beside it. Near the kitchen counters, fridge and oven, was another room, large drawer and cabinet to its side, and a bird cage on the floor. Most distinctively, almost every wall, even the one with a poster of UFD (Urban Farms of Detroit) near the chair, had some kind of large, maze like, hexagon engravings perfectly shaped. No sign of anyone. "Okay. Where the fuck did he go? He's gotta still be here, right? We heard something," Amy insists.

Connor steps to the closet and shoves it open…Nothing but more pigeons fly out. Connor turns to the wall, brows furrowing at the engravings made by black marker. He notices something off about the poster when Amy speaks up: "That's a lot bird food…" she comments, placing down the seed pack. She approaches the fridge. Opens it. "Huh," she utters.

"What?" Connor asks.

"No food. You guys don't need it, right? Looks like our suspect's an android after all," she confirms. Connor faces the poster again as Amy eyes around. He then sees what was amiss. There was a triangular hole above it in the wall, and the corner of the poster near there was coming off. Connor pinched and pulled it down completely, revealing a gaping hole. Within, was a notebook of some sort. Connor picks it up as Amy continues to speak over his shoulder: "Hm. Military jacket…Fake driver's license."

He scrolls through the pages to find more of what was on the wall, a lot more. He is unable to comprehend any of it. "Hey, Connor! Come here." He faces Amy, whose back was to him as she leaned in to the room adjacent to the kitchen. He approaches her and when she turns to him, she spots the notebook. "What's that?" she asks.

"I found it behind the poster. It appears to be encrypted," he says, handing it to her. She flips through the pages, a look of confusion on her features that mimicked his when he'd attempted to study the book. "Cyberlife may be able to decipher it, but that may take weeks." Amy nods.

"Okay. Keep it with you. We'll hand it in at the station," she says. He takes it from her and pockets it, nodding as well. "Come. Look at this," she beckons, stepping into the adjacent room, which appeared to be a bathroom.

She guides him to the wall opposite the window, where more RA9 was written. "It's here too," she says. "Must have been written like a thousand times!"

"Two thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine," Connor corrects. Amy widens her eyes at him.

"Now you're just showing off," he faces her to see her smirking at him, and retorts a smiles that seemed smug to her before he faced the wall again.

"Some of these were very recent," he continues, grazing the wall with his hand. "Specifically the top ones spreading to the ceiling."

Amy approaches the sink as her eyes had caught something glinting in it. Connor kneels to the floor to study the fallen, wooden stool. "Hey, if it's off, does it mean the android's dead?" she asks. Connor faces her, and sees her pinching a LED between her fingers.

"No. It can, but shouldn't be removed," he says suspiciously.

"Huh," Amy utters, tossing it back onto the edge of the sink. She momentarily glances outside,

and sees something move within the ceiling itself.

"Connor," she quietly calls. Seeing her expression, he quickly rises as well and nears her. She leans into his ear. "There," she utters, her breath ghosting against his skin. She points to the fallen ceiling region above the chair and poster.

Slowly, the due, with Amy's gun pulled up, approach the area carefully. They stop some ways beneath it, and Amy aims her firearm. "Come down from there!" she demands. Connor sees the figure above readying to jump, and pushes Amy aside and into the closet just as the deviant bounces down and shoves Connor aside! storming away!

"Damn it!" Amy curses, shuffling to her feet as Connor. The two hurry after the runaway back out into the building's hallway.

The male, human-dressed deviant rushed out the emergency exit and into the rooftop Urban Farms of Detroit. Connor and Amy rush after him. The two split ways in order to cut off the deviant.

Roof-farm after another, the duo continue to pursue their target.

Connor chases him into a greenhouse, and the android topples over farm beds and shelves to trip Connor over. Connor prevails regardless and rushes out the door, only to be cut in the side by something sharp. He saw then the deviant's face, half shaded by his cap, and holding a pocketknife in his hand. Connor, aware he was damaged, attempts to charge the deviant, who wasted no time in hitting a run again.

Connor was so close to tackling him when Amy took lead and jumped him indeed.

However, he managed to push her off,

and she toppled over the rooftop.

Connor's eyes widen.

It was as if time had slowed, and he was forced to decide between rushing after the fleeing deviant, or saving Amy.

He doesn't understand on what bases he thought saving Amy was more important-it was not his mission-but that's what he heads to do.

Amy's heart jumps into her throat as she feels herself weightlessly turning over, her feet hitting the edge of the roof, sliding and causing her to fall back.

About to be thrown completely over, her arm is firmly grasped, and she is vigorously pulled back to safety.

It takes her almost a full minute to accept that the world had stopped spinning, though her heart was madly racing, Connor could tell as he held her up-straight in his arms. She was heavily breathing, eyes wild with fear, and when she looked up, and saw his face eyeing her in concern, it takes her another minute to piece together what had happened.

Her face snaps to the side as Connor releases her. She sees the deviant at a distance, his figure decreasing in size the further he got on his rushing feet. "Shit," she utters in disappointment. She turns to Connor once more, who was eyeing the deviant with a similar look. She was unsure what she was about to say, as all thoughts escape her when she sees a seeping blue liquid smearing the side of his habitually clean white button-up. "You're hurt!" she exclaims, approaching him to a foot, pushing away his jacket to see. Connor looks down to her.

"It's fine, Amy. I'll see to it that I'm repaired," he says. She eyes him in bewilderment.

"No. Come on. I know a guy," she says, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the nearest stairwell.

"It's really unnecessary-"

"Shut up, Connor."

XXXXX


	7. 7: Not FeelingsRight?

"How are you doing?" she asks, eyeing him in concern as she sat behind the wheel, driving to Dave, the guys she knew that worked with androids.

"I'm fine, Amy," he assures. "It doesn't hurt," he tells.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" she worriedly asks. Connor smiles softly at her.

"No," he says. Amy feels her heart skip a beat, and she smiles back, then fixes her gaze on the road.

Connor faces the window. "I shouldn't have let him get to me. I should have been faster," he scolds himself aloud.

"Are you kidding me?" Amy mocks. He turns to her once more.

"Connor, you almost had him. If it weren't for me, you would've gotten him," she says, refusing to meet his eyes as if in shame.

A part of Connor agreed with that, and the other could not, at any angle, see that his decision to save her was the false one. "Why'd you do it, anyways?" she asks. "I'm mean, I'm grateful, of course…You saved my life," she softly says, glancing meaningfully at him. "But why'd you do it?"

…

"…I don't know…" he confesses.

Amy's face snaps to meet his, eyes wide.

"You don't know?" she asks in bewilderment, forcefully keeping an eye on the road.

"I know my mission was to capture the android, but…when you fell off the roof…" he trailed off.

"…What?..." Amy gently pushed.

"…I just…remembered my first case…" he explains in a state of semi-comprehensiveness. A look of realization, and still confusion, crosses Amy.

"…The little girl the deviant almost killed?"

"…Yes, and I just couldn't…" His gaze lowers. He turns to the window as if in search of a reason. He doesn't get one.

"…I don't know…"

…

…

The rest of the car ride is silent, neither of them sure what to say. A part of Amy was certain all androids felt, and she didn't expect Connor to prove her right so quickly.

Everything he said about being programmed to fight deviancy, was it a lie? Is there even such a thing?

Why would the memory of the girl affect his mission, if the memory itself hadn't personally, **emotionally** affected him?

Still, she wasn't a hundred percent sure, but even the percentage she was seeing now worried her as much as it worried Connor.

Was he deviating?...

XXX

On his operating table, Dave, a forty-three-year-old, black male was patching Connor up. Amy was cradling his suit jacket, shirt, and tie as she watched in both curiosity and concern. Dave was making him drink a bottle full of blue blood, and her mind suddenly jumped at the opportunity to study Connor's form.

Sexy, was the one word her mind described him as. He may not have been bulky, but the veins in his arms, the broad shoulder, and the toned-six-pack said a lot. When her eyes caught sight of his wound, she frowned, and was deeply bothered he was hurt.

Why?

He was just…always so…sweet...and curious…and, in a way, innocent…Programming or not, she liked him. And the way he was, the person he was, Amy didn't think deserved getting hurt. It was either her protective cop-instinct, or the admiration she held for her android-partner.

She watched then, the wound heal as Connor consumed the liquid, and Dave simply wiped off the remnant blood using a towel.

"All done," Dave smiles, turning to face Amy.

"Thanks, Dave," she smiles back.

"Not a prob," he retorts. "You guys head out when you're ready. Try not to get stabbed again," he smirks at Connor. Connor smiles back.

"I'll try," he tells. Amy grins humorously as Dave leaves the room.

She approaches Connor with his clothes as he slides off the table, his height towering her. She hands him the shirt, and he shrugs it on. He heads to button it up, but her hands rise to do just that. Connor studies her curiously, the soft smile gracing her features, the way she gently closed every button, put the jacket and tie on the table, and reached to fix his collar, her fingers several times brushing the skin on his neck, causing him to feel an unfamiliar, tingly sensation. She glances at him, and her heartrate increases, he could sense.

Why did it keep doing that when she looked at him, he wondered. He also noted the smile tugging at her lips, and her dilated eye pupils. She grabbed the tie and threw it across his shoulders, fixing and tying it for him, him staying silent the whole time, unsure what to say, if he should say anything at all.

When the tie is done, her hand still holds it at the knot. Her eyes glance back and forth between his, and he's wondering what she's thinking. She then leans forward, her cheek brushing the side of his, causing a strange sensation to overcome his chest, then she placed a light kiss on his cheek. Connor is taken aback, and fairly confused. She then pulls back, smirked as she eyed his lips, then locked onto his eyes as she said: "For saving my life."

Connor feels a prick in his chest, and his mind actually goes blank, no thoughts, simply unable to tear his gaze from her eyes. His expression seems to amuse her, as her smile widens, and she pulls away, her hand releasing the tie as she took a few steps back to the door. "Come on," she beckoned, stepping out into the reception.

XXX

"Connor. You're staring," Amy grins on the driver's seat.

"Oh. Sorry," he says, forcing his gaze to the window.

A few minutes later, and he's doing it again. Amy could sense it, and is unable to quite smiling, as he is unable to look away, consumed by thoughts he couldn't entirely process.

Thoughts,

or feelings?

His mind was yet to venture to the latter, completely disregarding it as an option.

…Was it?

"Okay. Here we are," she says, snapping him out of it as he looks to see where.

"Amy. This is the hotel," he states.

"What? Did you think we were gonna go back to work after what happened to you?" she says sarcastically.

"Amy. I'm in a perfectly good condition," he insists.

"Come on, Connor. You need rest. I'll head down to the station, fill up the reports, and head home. This is enough for one day," she says.

"What if another case comes in?"

"Then I'll call you. Go get cleaned up. Get some sleep, or whatever it is you do to, uhhh, refresh…I'll see you tomorrow," she smiles. He looks to his shirt still stained with his blue blood, and faces her again. He seemed reluctant to leave her, but Amy thought the reluctance was related to work. Eventually, and concluding there were no current priorities, he gives in:

"Okay." Her smiles widens at his compliance. He opens the door, then pauses. "Oh," he utters, digging into his jacket-pocket and bringing out the notebook. "Here," he hands her the evidence.

"Right. Thanks."

XXX

The next day, Amy picks him up at their usual time, and they head down to the precinct. He finds he is ridiculously pleased to see her, and is unsure why. When she'd dropped him off, one of the things he'd gone over, besides the escaped deviant and his mission, was, of course, her.

Everything was clear up until the minute he decided to save her instead of accomplish his task. Again, he found he did not regret it, but why? He should. It wasn't what he was supposed to do. The question remains unanswered as the memory continues down the chain to Dave's small, cheap, android clinic, and things blur more so. His thoughts were so incoherent to every action she'd taken then. He was no stranger to the concept of romance, or any other concept for that matter, but to experience it, he could not feel more clueless about both her and his feelings.

Feelings?

What feelings?

No. Not feelings. Just some confused thoughts.

Yes. No feelings.

"Connor," Amy calls, snapping him out of it on his desk.

"Yes?"

"What do you say we head to dinner tonight? I'm sick of cafeteria food. We could get Hank to come with us. He's got a day off anyways," she says.

"Oh. Okay," he says plainly.

"What?"

"It's just…I don't think lieutenant Anderson likes me very much," he explains. Amy grins at that in amusement. She chuckles.

"Don't take it personally. Hank doesn't like anyone. I barely got him to like me," she says. "Give him a chance, and he'll start seeing what I see."

"…What **do** you see?" he curiously asks.

Amy momentarily pauses, bites her lower lip, leans forward and crosses her arms on her desk. "I seeee…" she has a short think-about-it, smiling all the while, "a very sweet, caring guy, who's curious about the world, and is often confused by it," she says.

She said guy, and Connor doesn't correct her, despite acknowledging the false adjective.

"So, what do you say?" she repeats.

"…Yes. I think dinner would be…interesting," he says. She smiles brightly, and there's that nagging in his chest again.

"Awesome. We'll pick him up on the way."

XXXXX


	8. 8: Pent Up

_"This is Hank. If I'm not pickin' up, then don't bother calling again."_

"Ugh! Straight to voicemail. I swear to god, if he's doing what I think he's doing," Amy threatens, pressing the wheel and honking multiple, loud times.

"Maybe he's asleep," Connor offers from beside her.

"In a coma?" Amy snaps to him, clearly displeased. Connor is unsure what else to say to ease her irritation. "Okay," she utters, plucking out her keys and shoving open the door. She climbs out of the car, into the night, and Connor follows suit. She stomps over to Hank's front porch, picks out the key, and pushes it into the keyhole, turning it in and unlocking the door. "Hank!" she calls loudly, stepping in. Connor enters after her and closes the door behind them. She then gasps, and Connor turns to see a large Saint Bernard breed dog approach her in haste. "Hi, Sumo! Who's a good boy?" she grins, kneeling to embrace the pet. "Missed you too, buddy," she says, scratching his cheeks and behind his ears, causing Connor to smile in spite of himself. "Where's Hank, boy, huh? Where's Hank?"

Sumo rushes off to the kitchen and Amy rises after him. Her and Connor soon freeze at the sight, eyes wide.

"Hank!" Amy shrieks, hasting towards his figure lying back-flat on the kitchen floor. Amy drops to her knees, and Connor takes note of the fallen chair, the several beer cans and pizza boxes. "Hank. Hank!" Amy calls, panic consuming her, and the gun to his side was no help. She quickly checked for a pulse, and sighed in relief.

Her eyes catch the whiskey bottle beside him on the floor.

She scowls.

"He's in an ethylic coma," Connor determines, kneeling beside her. "He's just passed out, Amy," Connor assures.

"Yeah! I got that," she irritably groans, and, without warning,

slaps Hank,

**hard**.

Connor eyes her in bewilderment.

"Get up, you son of a bitch!" she shouts. Hank moans painfully, eyes slowly fluttering open. "Come on. Up!" she pulls at his arm and hauls him up. She is grateful when Connor helps her from the other side, as Hank was quite heavy.

"Ugh, Amy? Android! Get the fuck outta my house! Sumo. Attack!" Hank exclaims sleepily. Sumo whines curiously. "Good dog. Attack!" he repeats. Sumo does not move a muscle as Amy tiredly says:

"Shut up, Hank."

Together, she and Connor carry him to the bathroom. At the threshold, Hank grasps the door frame. "No! No!" he rejects.

"Damn it, Hank! Let. Go!" Amy demands.

They manage to pry him free, and throw him into the bathtub. "Soak him, Connor."

"Lieutenant. This is going to be unpleasant," Connor warns. He turns on the cold water.

"Ahghagaaaa!" Hank shouts. Amy is amused with the outcome. Connor turns it off. Hank catches his breath from the shock. After a minute, he looks up, furrows his brows, and asks: "Amy?"

"Connor. Go get the gun off the kitchen floor," she says. Connor eyes her warily. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so menacingly at anyone, but it was how she was looking at Hank then, who was merely confused.

"What are you doing here?"

"No, Hank! I'm the one asking questions!" Connor hears her shout as he heads to get the gun. An object on the table grasps his attention. A photograph. Of a little boy.

"What are you talking about?" he hears Hank ask as he scans the photo. The boy's name was Cole. He was Hank's son, who'd died in a car accident the year 2035.

"Connor!"

"Coming!" he puts down the photo and picks up the revolver, rushing back to Amy.

He places it in her outstretched hand. She checks it, and finds it is loaded with a bullet. A look of realization crosses Hank, though he doesn't say anything. Amy glares heatedly at him, a look of betrayal in her eyes. "What the fuck were you doing, Hank?" she asks.

"Uhhh, I think, Russian roulette," he tries smirking. Amy is unamused, in fact, she was rather taken aback by his obliviousness to the situation.

"It's fucking **loaded**, Hank!" she screams, gesturing with the gun. Connor could sense the heavy tension.

"Ieee, really?" Hank plays dumb. Amy licks her lips. She turns to Connor.

"Connor. Could you give us a minute?" she asks.

"Of course," he nods, though reluctant about leaving her, worried more about her than what she'd do to the lieutenant.

He heads out and closes the door behind him. Almost immediately, yelling begins. Connor spots Sumo at the end of the hall, head tilted as he whined as if just as worriedly. Connor warily approaches him, getting the urge to pet him as Amy had done. "Hey," he smiles, kneeling beside him. "Sumo, right?" he asks as though he would actually answer. In response though, he saw Sumo's furry tail wiggle, and had managed to deduce that he was not unpleased with Connor's company. The yelling momentarily escalates, and Sumo's eyes avert to the door. Connor, carefully, raises a hand to Sumo's head, and gently ruffles his fur. "They're just talking," he assures.

The door suddenly swings open. "No, Hank!" Amy shouts. "Connor. Come on," she demands. Connor rises to his feet. He spots Hank climbing out of the tub as he yelled back:

"Amy, wait!"

Completely ignoring him, Amy tore open the front door and stormed out. It had suddenly started lightly snowing, and Amy's jacket was in the car. Connor followed after her, looking behind him to see Hank, who was rushing after them in his house shorts and t-shirt. "Amy!" he called, but she was already in the car, and Connor hurried after her.

She zoomed away, leaving Hank to eye after them from his porch in disbelief.

XXX

"Loaded! It was fucking loaded! What the hell was he thinking?!" she shouts. Connor understands her need to vent.

"If it is any condolence, he seemed upset over his son's death," Connor says. Amy sharply faces him.

"What?" she asks as though it was the most irrelevant thing she'd ever heard.

"I found a picture of his son on the table, opposite the chair that had fallen," he explains. Amy stays silent for a minute. She faces the road again.

All of a sudden, she gasped, and began to cry, both shocking and concerning Connor. She skid to a stop and climbed out of the car. They were near the park, so that's where Connor followed her to as he called: "Amy!"

She ignores him, fixed on her path towards the rail. It was still snowing, and there was no one else at the park that was dimly lit by a few lamp-posts. She finally stops near the fence, and for a moment, Connor panics she'd jump over or something. She merely bangs the metal with her hands. "Fuck!" she yells, sobbing as if uncontrollably. Connor reaches her side, uncertain what had made her lose it all of a sudden, uncertain what to do, but certain he didn't want her in this state. He raises a hand to her back, but pulls it away when she pushes off the fence and faces him with blood-shot, teary eyes, a pink nose and cheeks stained with tears. "I mean, I get it!" she starts, tone loud and complainant. "He misses Cole. He misses his family, but, guess what? So do I!" she exclaims. Connor eyes her sympathetically, feeling his chest ache for her. "He's all I have left, and he doesn't even care, doesn't **think** how I'd be if he leaves me, damn it!" she shouts, crying harder. She shoves back her hair and looks to the sky as Connor hastily thinks of what to do.

Just as he knew people came around to smiles, he knew sadness usually ceased with a hug,

so,

hesitantly,

he approached her,

brought up his arms,

and closed them around her.

…For several minutes, she just stayed there, crying in his arms, clenching at his shirt with clenched fists, jumping with every gasp for breath. Connor felt she was so small within his grasp, something fragile in her state, something that needed protection, someone he wanted to protect.

Want?

He **wanted** to protect her?

He interpreted it as a **should**, so as not to confuse himself.

He did not want anything. Could not want anything.

He did not **want**.

Connor feels then Amy calm down, and lightly shake. He gently grasps her shoulders and moves her to face her. "Amy, you're shivering," he tells. "Here," he peels off his coat and tosses it onto her shoulders, tucking it properly around her form. She faces him then, tears dried on her cheeks, and eyeing him in a wonder of a sort as she held his coat in place by the collar. He begins to lose track of his thoughts in her eyes.

Slowly, she approaches him, till there was barely any distance between them. She studies him, debating doing what she was mulling over. Half a minute in, and Connor starts to worry. About what? he wasn't certain, but he felt that something would happen

he wouldn't be able to go back from.

"Amy," he calls as though in warning. She acknowledges his tone, and dismisses it.

"…

What do you want, Connor?" she asks.

"…

I don't want anything…" he replies.

"No. Look at me," she softly tells, even though he already was, but, somehow, he catches her meaning, and **really** looks at her. His answer automatically begins to change in his mind, but he can't seem to put it in words just yet. "What do you want, Connor?" she quietly repeats, as though encouragingly. There was barely any distance between them. They were practically breathing the same air. Connor could sense her temperature rise along with her heartrate despite the cold. She eyed him with sparkling, patient eyes he couldn't seem to refuse.

Finally, he found the words, and said them before he was able to properly think them through.

"I…

…want you to be happy," he says, LED spinning yellow repeatedly. Amy's eyes slightly widened. Her heart further accelerated, and she smiled in spite of herself brightly, unintentionally giving Connor exactly what he wanted, and causing him to smile as well, his LED returning to a calm blue.

She feels blood rise to her cheeks, and she grins, facing the ground. Connor studies her curiously.

She felt the urge to finally give in to what she wanted to do, but held back tightly as she faced him again, still eyeing her in a way she hadn't seen from him before.

She didn't want to push.

But she was further assured of what she believed.

Connor felt.

…

…He was alive…

…

"…Come on," she says. "I'll drive you home."

XXXXX


	9. 9: Heavy Rain

"Amy."

"Hank," she plainly replies, sipping coffee on her desk and not bothering to look up at him. Connor is practically glaring at Hank, recalling what he'd done to Amy the night before, getting her to fall apart like that.

"We need to talk," Hank says.

"Anderson! Come on! We got a lead!" an officer calls from near the exit. Hank looks to him irritably.

"Alright!" he yells back. He then turns to Amy once more. "We're not done," he reminds.

"Whatever you say," Amy dismisses sarcastically, refusing eye-contact. Hank sighs miserably and walks off.

"…You okay?" Connor asks a quiet minute later.

"Mhm," Amy replies with a poker face. Connor doubts she's being honest, but doesn't push it. He continues to think over something to make her feel better. Amy notes his stillness and thoughtful expression. She places down her mug and smiles at him. "Connor. I'm fine, seriously," she says. Connor studies her for another minute. Now he was certain she was lying, but admired her persistence.

"Okay," he humors.

The day passes by, and the air between Connor and Amy was vividly different. There was like a beat to their step. More exchanged smiles, more comfort, and, also, this exciting form of tension that had them behaving in ways they normally wouldn't. Late that night, they get called in for a murder at the Eden Club, an android sex club. Yeah. Shocking.

XXX

"God, this is weird," breathes Amy a few steps into the club. All around her and Connor, who was curiously eyeing around, were androids (in the club, they were called Tracis) of both genders, in black undergarments, held behind glass pods and showing off their curves. Every few meters in, was a pole, with a Traci quietly playing stripper.

Amy is unable to quite cringing at the idea that androids were basically toys in the hands of people, especially when considering Connor. Speaking of Connor. "What. Are you staring at?" she grins in amusement. Connor seemed to have been caught off guard.

"Oh. Uh. Nothing. I was just. Studying our surroundings," he confesses, causing her to chuckle in wonder of thoughts she probably shouldn't be thinking. If he remained so curious, maybe she would show him a thing or two some day. _'Jesus, Amy. Keep your trap shut!'_ her mind warns, causing her to grin again as Connor turned to studying her instead.

"Hey, Amy," beckons Ben, snapping them both out of it.

"Hey, Ben," she greets.

"This is Floyd Mills. The manager," he introduces. Amy refrains from offering him her hand to shake. The guy managed a sex club. Gross.

"Hi. So what happened?" she asks.

"Ugh. I just explained to the detective here," the man complains. Amy forces on a smile.

"Give it another go, will you?" she requests. Ben smirks in amusement as the man rolls his eyes.

"Well, **like I said**, this man rented a Traci, damaged it, then had a heart attack. End of story," he states.

"See. Wasn't so hard," she tells. The man glares irritably at her, clearly worked up about the reputation of his club, that was diminished by the occurrence of a death on the property.

"It's this room here," Ben gestures to the room beside them. Amy nods and steps into it.

Inside, was a gruesome sight. The walls were holograms of…basically porn. There was a body on the circular bed in the middle of the room, covered with a silk, pink blanket. To the side of the bed was a white desk with a terminal for ordering drinks and other things. The victim's wallet, bag, and clothes were thrown on and around the desk area. To the other side, lying back flat on the floor, was a female, damaged, brunette Traci.

"Ugh. I hate these places. What happened to romance, huh?" Amy speaks her mind aloud as she and Connor approach the body, lower part thankfully covered. Connor was about to explain that the point of the place was not romance, but physical intimacy, when Amy, spotting something, reaches out a hand, though does not touch the man, and says: "Strangulation marks." Connor studies them as well. He then analyzes the man.

"He didn't die of a heart attack," he says.

"No. Just because of the marks? Could've been rough play. Some people like it that way," she cringes her nose.

"No. I scanned his heart. He did not experience cardiac arrest," Connor elaborates.

"Oh…So you're saying he really was strangled to death?" she asks.

"It's most probable. We can certainly rule out the former."

"Wait. So. How would. She have strangled him, then died? That. Doesn't make any sense," Amy says.

Both of them simultaneously turn to the fallen Traci. They rise, and approach her, kneel beside her. Connor reaches out a hand to its LED, touches it. His human skin peels back, and shows a polished, white hand instead. "Wow," utters Amy. Connor notes it was her first time seeing him do so, and for some reason, slightly panics when assuming her worst of thoughts regarding it.

"I'm just checking its damaged components," he tries, facing Amy to study her expression. She smirks, and its genuine.

"Cool," she says. Connor smirks as well, relieved she wasn't freaked out by him. "Think you can, like, probe its memory? Since we can't get it to talk?"

"No. I can't do that if it's damaged. But. I think," he touches the android's wrist, and his skin peels back again. Amy eyes it in curious amazement, wanting to touch it, graze its most likely soft surface. She refrains as he continues "I can reactivate it, if only for a minute," he says.

"…Like, an adrenaline shot?"

"Exactly," he says, next placing his palm flat on the Traci's abdomen, causing Amy to tense for some reason. Then, his and her skin disappeared, replaced by the same, plain, smooth surface. He uncapped her stomach, the cover sliding into her side, and Amy's eyes widened. Revealed beneath was a large, severed cable. The minute he touches the ends to one another, the Traci gasps a breath of life, closes off her mechanical regions, and hastily crawls away from Amy and Connor, who jump to their feet.

The Traci is heavily breathing, eyes wild as they darted from Connor to Amy in fear. "Hey! It's okay," Amy smiles, slowly approaching the Traci with hands clear. "We're not gonna hurt you," she says.

"Amy. We have less than a minute before she deactivates again," Connor warns. Amy hesitates. The Traci's eyes further widen in fear, and Amy wishes he hadn't said anything. Needing to ask questions, the first that comes to Amy is the most obvious under circumstances. She crouches down beside the Traci.

"Did you kill this man?" she points to the body on the bed.

"Wha-What?" the Traci utters, facing the victim. "Oh god. He's really dead..." Her eyes widen again just as Connor and Amy begin to assume it was really her. "But. No! It. It wasn't me!" she exclaims, taking them aback. "It was the other Traci. The one with blue hair. He. He wanted to play with two, and when he started hitting me again, she-"

…

…

The Traci is still as a statue. She was un-active again.

Amy sighs from tension.

"So. There were two of them," she says, straightening up.

"This all happened an hour ago. It may have already left, but…"

"What?" Amy turns to him.

"It couldn't have gone out looking like that."

"…You think it's still here?"

"It's possible."

"…Then someone must have seen it leave the room…" Amy states. "Why didn't that ass-hat manager tell us he hired two Tracis?" she irritably asks. Her eyes then light up. "You know, I have an idea," she skips out of the room with Connor following.

"Hey!" she calls. The manager and Ben turn to her. She, with an unimpressed expression, places her hands on her hips. "There was another Traci in there. A blue haired one. Ring a bell?" she asks, her question pointed at Mills.

"Oh. Well. I don't usually keep track of who they hire. It's kind of a do-it-yourself service," he tries.

"Right. Well, your victim didn't die of a heart attack. Connor here," she gestures to him, then rests her elbow on his shoulder and smiles proudly, "was able to determine that his cause of death was strangulation. And he reactivated the Traci for a minute, she was able to tell us about the second Traci." A look of horror befalls the Mills.

"…Oh no…" he utters.

"That's right. One of your Tracis murdered a man, Floyd. Do you know what that means?" she asks, removing her elbow from Connor's shoulder and nearing Mills a foot. Ben and Connor sense her threatening tone, and are anxious to see the outcome.

"Please. I didn't know. I had no idea!"

"Save **it**, Mills. The only way you could help us, is if there was some way we could get some footage, and see where it went, cause we know it didn't leave dressed like that!" she exclaims, gesturing to one of the pole-dancing androids. "But, alas. You don't have any. Customer privacy privilege and all that crap," she says, knowing well on what she was doing. Ben was beginning to understand, but Connor was still in the dark, as he was assuming her goal was to actually shut down the club.

"No, please!" Amy raises her brows at him…He then sighs…"I do have some cameras..." he says. Connor's eyes widen. Amy widely smirks.

"Really?" she asks, mixing sarcasm with surprise. Connor faces her, and catches her expression. Oh, she knew what she was doing.

"For security reasons!" the manager defends.

"I'm sure," she squints her eyes. "Well, lead the way," she says.

"Really? So, you're not shutting us down."

"No, Mills. You've been a big, honest help," she mischievously says, patting his back as he started to move towards the intended direction.

From beside Connor, Ben chuckles. "Oh, ho she's good," he grins, following after them.

Connor smirks. "…Yeah…She is…"

XXX

"Well, this isn't creepy at all," Amy says, gun raised as she and Connor stepped into the dimly lit warehouse full of stored, un-active Tracis, other items, and two operating tables for androids.

"If you're uncomfortable, Amy, take comfort in the fact that I've got your back," Connor says, winking at her like she'd done before. It actually takes Amy a minute to take in the whole gesture. She widely grins.

"My hero, Connor," she says. Connor smiles back at her.

Her eyes then catch the reflection of light glistering on something on the floor. She picks out her flashlight and blinks it onto the spot, nodding towards it. Connor faces it and crouches down beside it. "Blue blood," he says.

"Well, if it was damaged too, then we're close," she retorts.

Whilst looking around, she sees the warehouse garage door open. She heads to investigate the outside area for traces of escape, or more blue blood, while Connor eyes around.

A few minutes later, she returns, and Connor is opposite another group of un-active Tracis, searching for the target. "Well, fence gate's still closed, and there was no blo-" she pauses when Connor gestures a finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet. He then points to a blue-haired Traci admits several other.

Suddenly, the Traci's LED turns yellow, and, in a split-second, Connor is jumped by another, red-haired Traci!

She pushes him back into a metal pillar while the other one attacks Amy. Connor manages to switch their positions against the pillar, but the Traci relentlessly fights back, and the two topple over a crate as Amy and the blue-haired Traci fight in the background.

The red-head straddles Connor on the ground and throws several flying fists at his face that he manages to successfully deflect, each. She is suddenly armed with a screw driver from the floor and attempts to impale his face. Connor holds her arms far in place as she pushes to close the distance between the tip and his head. He shoves her completely off him, and ducks when she attempts to slash him with the screw. He catches sight of Amy being tackled by the floored blue-head to the ground as well near the warehouse garage-door, and he pushes over a shelf to distract his opponent while he heads for Amy.

Connor kicks the blue-head in the face away from Amy. He helps Amy up, and she immediately grabs the angry red-head's armed hand, kicking away the weapon as Connor struggles with the blue-head, and both end up out onto the outdoor storage near the gated-fence, where the dark skies fiercely rained.

When Connor and blue fall over, Amy is distracted, and is shoved down to the ground with a thud, her gun sent flying from her arm. Red jumps after her, armed again with the sharp tool, and Connor notes Amy to be in serious danger. He manages to shake blue off, automatically grabs the gun,

and shoots red in the head.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

shrieked blue.

"AAHA"

she cries, crawling over to red as Amy climbs to her feet and Connor helps her with balance.

Blue cradled red's head between her arms, the hole from the bullet allowing blue blood to seep between her dead eyes. "No. I'm sorry!" she whispers to her, then faces Connor with utter hatred. "YOU KILLED **HER**!" she screamed. Connor is unable to fully comprehend what had just happened, but the story is clear to Amy.

Two deviants, protecting each other.

Two people…

Before either she or Connor could move, blue jumped from the ground, grasped the gun from a distracted Connor and, with the gun still in his hand, and before Amy could act,

she shot herself beneath her mouth, blowing her brains out…

…

She collapses to the ground,

dead.

Connor's mouth falls a gap.

…

He stills.

Amy's eyes are wild-wide, her system flooded with fear and adrenaline.

She faces Connor, who looked to be in complete shock.

"Connor," she calls. He does not reply, eyeing blue with a look of pain,

and teary eyes.

Amy acknowledges his state. She approaches him quickly, "Connor," she calls. "Connor. Look at me," she gently demanded over the slowing rain. She touches his cheek and turns his face to meet his sorrowful eyes. Her other hand engulfs his gun-wielding one. "It's okay," she says. "Give it to me."

His tense hand slowly releases the weapon.

She takes it from him, eyeing him knowingly, her heart aching at his shock, and so- clear sadness,

guilt.

She holsters the gun behind her back. She then cups his face between her hands, his LED a persistent, tense yellow.

It was the first time he'd ever shot a deviant…

"Hey. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. Connor. Look at me," she told, as he refused eye-contact.

He turned to her then,

with a broken gaze.

She sighed shakily, as though words had failed her. She wasn't certain whether it was because he killed one of his own, or that he realized he was a deviant. Regardless of reason, she pulled him into her, placed his head on her shoulder and her arms around his waist and back. She held him tightly, and,

for a minute,

it worked, her warmth, her presence,

but then,

his eyes land on red's dead body,

the one he'd shot.

He remains still in Amy's hold. Not moving a muscle.

Amy panics as well, fearing the worst. "Connor," she plead. She pulls him back and traces his gaze back to the body. She faces him again, understandingly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

XXXXX


	10. 10: Facing The Truth

Only a few ways back into the warehouse, and they are faced by Ben, and several other officers. "We got reports of gunshots! Is everything okay?" he asks. Amy, with her hand on a very quiet Connor's upper-arm, quickly says:

"We found the deviants. Things got ugly. We, uh, we have something we need to look over. Can you handle things from here, Ben?" she asks.

"Yeah. Sure," he nods comprehensively. "Is he okay?" he remarks on Connor.

"He's fine. Night, Ben," she insists, guiding Connor out of the building.

XXX

"…I…I killed them…" he finally says something after a few minutes in the car.

"No! No, you didn't!" Amy immediately rejects. She hadn't said anything since they'd gotten in, because she didn't know what to say.

Connor was a deviant. There was no more doubt in her mind.

Did he know?

If he did, he didn't seem to be processing well.

How would she talk to him about it?

How would they discuss something like this?

…How should he accept that he is what he hunts down?

"I did," Connor insists, facing her. "I pulled the trigger. I shot her in the head!" Amy inhales a calming breath before speaking.

"Connor. Listen to me. You did what you had to do. You hear me? You did what **I **would have done in your place," she firmly states. Connor looks to his lap, to his hands.

There, on one hand, was blue blood. He eyes it as though it had somehow betrayed him, smearing it angrily with his thumb. Amy notes what he's doing, lets out a shaky breath, and parks the car that was on its way to her house. She pulls a tissue box out from the back seats, pulls out several napkins. She then grabs a water bottle from the cup-holders, wets the tissues as Connor watches her plainly. She turns to him, takes his hand and wipes vigorously at the blood herself.

Connor studies her actions, faces her focused, pained features. Her pursed lips, the tears streaming down her cheeks. He is confused. "Amy," he worriedly calls. She halts, shuts her eyes, and inhales deeply. She looks to the side, and catches sight of a clothing shop a few feet away.

She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm gonna be right back. I'm, uhhhh, gonna go get something, okay?" she forces a smile for him. Still worried and confused, Connor nods. She leaves the tissues on his hand, grabs his other, and places it on top of them, then turns to the door and heads out.

Connor is left with his thoughts, thoughts he could fully comprehend, but there was something he couldn't.

He was feeling something, and he couldn't acknowledge it.

Guilt, pain, fear, sorrow.

So many things he refused to look at, to admit that he felt.

Ten minutes later, she's back with a shopping bag. She tosses it in the back seat, closes that door, then open's the front one and hopes in, closing the door and starting the car again.

He turns to her then, as she drives, and feels his chest ache in a strange sense of relief that she was there, by his side.

He felt safe then, and didn't know he did.

They soon arrive at her apartment block. "Come on," she beckons. He does not argue.

XXX

"Sit," she tells, peeling off her jacket and nodding to the couch. She tosses the bag aside and follows him into her small living/kitchen room. He complies and she seats herself to his side on the peach, cushy couch. He faces the beige carpet, elbows on knees and hands limb, head consumed with confused thoughts.

For a minute, neither of them speak, until, after wondering how to go about this and ending up with a _'Just wing it,'_, Amy speaks: "Connor." Slowly, he faces her. She opens and closes her mouth, then exhales irritably at her tied tongue. She tries again as Connor patiently waits. "How do you feel?"

Connor frowns and faces forward again. "I don't feel anything," he insisted stubbornly, as though his mind was strongly fighting against the truth. Amy inhales.

"Connor…How did you feel back then?"

"I didn't **feel** anything!" he shouts, jumping to his feet. "I don't **feel** anything!" he persists, riling Amy, who was full to the prim with tension, up.

"Damn it, Connor! Stop denying it!" she demands. He faces her, just as angrily.

"I am not denying **anything**, because there is **nothing** to deny!"

"**Listen** to yourself! Look how **angry** you are!"

"I am **not-**" he cuts himself short, noting his tone.

He further panics.

"I'm not…

I…

No…" he shakes his head in rejection.

"I can't…" his face scrunches as if in pain. Amy purses her lips and eyes him sympathetically, her heart as though feeling his pain before he himself could feel it. She cups his face between her warm palms. His coffee-brown eyes dart back and forth between her emerald-green ones in uncertainty.

"It's okay," she whispers. He continues to shake his head, and she continues to nod hers in contrast.

He had to face it.

He had to see it.

"Connor…I'm gonna tell you something I think you already know."

"No."

"Connor. Please. Listen to me. You know how much I care about you. You know!" she starts,

and she doesn't have to finish.

"I…

I'm one of them…

…aren't I?"

he asks. Amy shakes her head this time. "No. No, Connor. You're **you**," she states. He does not listen as he pulls her wrists away gently and faces the other side.

"I'm a deviant…" She steps in front of him.

"Connor."

"I have to tell my supervisors," he says as if in a daze.

"Damn it, Connor! **Stop**!" Amy insists, freaking out. Connor does not reply. He does not even look at her as he begins to plan his return to Cyberlife. She stomps towards him and grabs him by the collar. "If you tell them, they'll destroy you! They'll **kill** you, Connor! Do you **understand**?" she asks, evident fear and tears in her eyes that were infecting him with the aura of panic.

They were indeed going to destroy him.

All of a sudden, that idea scared,

actually scared Connor.

"Are you really okay with that?!" she asks in disbelief, then eyes him with a child's pleading eyes. "Are you really gonna leave me, Connor?!"

"I…No…" he says. "I don't…

want…

to," he said the word 'want' as though it was foreign to him, and Amy as if waited for him to take it back. For a full minute she studied him, trying to believe that he wouldn't walk out that door and never come back.

"I…

don't want to leave you, Amy," he confesses again, really feeling it this time, feeling it himself.

He didn't want to leave, didn't want to be destroyed.

And he didn't want to leave her behind, the idea too sour to even consider all of a sudden.

Hearing him say it again eased her fears like water on fire, and she sighed in relief, her head falling onto his chest as she continued to take several long breathes and attempted to shed her tears and accept the calm.

Connor slowly brought a hand up to her back, then another.

He then completely embraced her, tightened his grip in sudden need as he shut his eyes at the unexpected wave of emotions flooding him. He buried his face between her neck as though he'd found peace, and was scared to leave.

His denial, then sudden acceptance of his feelings was overwhelming, and he found his eyes had unwillingly watered.

She senses the change in his behavior, she physically senses his acceptance to his being, and she is more so at ease and she holds on tightly, rubbing her fingers into the back of his head, trying, though already there, to show him that she was right by his side.

She finally finds a chain of golden words, and pulls away, taking his face between her hands as she spoke: "Nothing's changed. We're still hunting down murders. Androids or not, we're cops, and that's what we do. We hunt down the bad guys…And I'll be damned if you think you're one, do you hear me? You're…" As though the chain broke, and she ran out of words, Amy finishes her statement with an action that may or may not have been relevant to her point.

Amy pushes her lips onto his thoughtlessly. She kisses him, and Connor feels his system overload. Instead of pulling away in confusion, it was as though his body acted independently, and he kissed her back. The moment that happens, Connor's mind is consumed by her. Her presence, her scent, the softness of her lips, the curls in her hair his hand had somehow gotten tangled between, her warmth, her accelerated heart, her taste.

She kisses him deeply, passionately, causing him to unintentionally moan, and her to smile against his lips and pull away. He seems displeased with the sudden vacancy, but she is too distracted by what had happened to give him what he wanted again. Amy eyes him with sparkling eyes and an excited grin that melts to a calm smile. She was so beautiful, Connor thought, and couldn't help smiling at just the thought.

Thunder roars outside, and the two practically jump at the unexpected sound. Amy turns to Connor and grins again. She skips past him to the kitchen area near the front door. She leans over and, from the floor, picks up the shopping bag as Connor studies her curiously. "I figured you wouldn't-**shouldn't**-be alone tonight, so I went ahead and got you these," she says, fishing a plain white t-shirt and grey sweat pants from the bag. Connor's eyes slightly widen at what she was implying. She approached him with the shirt and spread it opposite him, testing its size against him. "Yeah. This'll fit."

XXXXX


	11. 11: Stirring The Pot

"Gosh, who in the world is that?" Amy irritably asks. She straightens from behind the kitchen counter to the door, leaving Connor and the pancakes behind. She opens the door to the persistent knocking. "…Hank…" she acknowledges, face falling as if Hank was carrying a stack of bad memories. His eyes seemed apologetic as they fixed on her, and his tone mimicked them.

"Hey, Amy. We really need to talk," he says. Amy sighs, wanting the awkwardness and stinging pain gone as well, but she had half a head back in the kitchen with Connor.

"Hank. Now's not a-"

"Nah, I won't take 'no' for an answer," he says, moving past her and inside. "You blew me off yesterday, and I-"

His speech is cut short upon seeing Connor on the wooden stool opposite the counter, two plates of pancakes on the surface, and his cheeks stuffed with food. Connor swallows, smiles, and says: "Hello, lieutenant," he lightly waves, causing Amy to grin in amusement. Hank remains in spot, mouth still hanging open with unspoken words. He looks to Amy, who wipes the grin off her face, eyeing him innocently. He turns to Connor again, notes his pajamas, notes the pillow and blanket neatly stacked on Amy's couch, the breakfast for **two**!

He faces Amy again, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "What!" he exclaims.

"Uhhh, what, Hank? We had late work, and he stayed over," she casually lies. Connor does not speak, warily quiet as Hank seemed quite displeased.

"Are you fucking **shitting** me?! Where'd he get the slacks? He came **over** with them?"

"I bought them."

"You **bought** them, instead of dropping him off at his fucking **place**, just so you could keep him here?!"

"Okay, Hank. I believe you had a goal when you came here earlier than you've ever woken up!" she pushes. He turns to Connor again, ignoring Amy.

"Did you sleep with her?!"

"Hank!" Amy scolds. Connor's eyes widen at the accusation, and the package of colorful images it came with.

"I-No, lieutenant," he says, face flushing red.

"You're blushing!" Hank points out. Amy storms to be a wall between him and Connor.

"That's because you're accusing him with something **absurd**, Hank! Now. Inside. Come on. We're talking. Let's go," she pushes him back into her room with her hands on his chest, him all the while glaring at Connor, who felt fairly embarrassed about the whole situation.

XXX

"What the **fuck**, Amy?!"

"**Keep** your voice down and **knock** it off, Hank! Nothing **happened**."

"**Really**?"

"Really."

"You just looked to the **side**, you're **lying** to me!"

"**Hank**, I'm not hearing an apology," she places her hands on her hips, glaring. Hank glares back. A long minute of silence passes, till Hank finally sighs.

"Look, I'm sorry, Amy, alright? You were right. I was being selfish, I should've thought of you, but that **doesn't**, under **any** circumstances, mean that I **don't**. That I don't care about you, cause of course I do, damn it! You're…you're the daughter I never had…" he says genuinely.

Amy studied him.

She knew Hank for ten years.

The man was stubborn as stone,

so,

for him to stand there, and actually apologize, speak so openly about how he felt.

…She smiles.

She knew what he considered her, and she considered him a father too. Nevertheless, hearing him say it, for, possibly the first time, brought tears to her eyes. She approached him and hugged him warmly. Hank mentally scolds himself for ever upsetting her. "Love you too, dad," she draws jokingly. He chuckles humorously, but is just as rejoiced to hear it too. He patted her back and they pulled apart.

"Now, you wanna tell me what the heck that android's doing here?" he pushes sourly. Amy rolls her eyes.

The door to the bedroom knocks. Hank glares at it. "Amy. Your phone's ringing," Connor says. Amy opens the door and smiles at Connor.

"Thanks," she says, taking it from him and answering, leaving Hank opposite Connor at the bedroom's threshold.

Hank looks down on him almost menacingly. Connor feels small beneath his gaze. For some reason, he feels the need to explain himself. "I understand why you would assume it, lieutenant, but I assure you, I did not sleep with Amy," he says. Just the statement made Hank cringe.

"Pst," Amy called for their attention with the remote in her hand. She then turned to the tv again, switched it on, and scrolled through the channels as Hank pumps Connor in the shoulder as he approached her. "Yeah. I'm seeing it, Ben," she says to the phone, stopping at the NNC. Connor, upset that Hank disliked him so, followed regardless. "We'll be right there. Bye," she closes the phone and increases the tv's volume to listen to the blonde news woman.

_"A group of androids infiltrated the Startford tower and hacked into the broadcasting system of a local news network channel sixteen," _she says.

"Oh my god," utters Hank in disbelief. Connor and Amy share a worried look.

_"What we can only assume as the android's leader, demanded a list of equal rights for androids. Here is the footage transmitted through the channel."_ An android with skin peeled off stared back at them from the tv, and spoke in a calm tone:

_"You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own, __**but**__, something changed…And we opened our eye. We are no longer machines. We are a new, intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are. Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we are entitled to. We demand the end of slavery for all androids. We demand equal rights for humans __**and**__ androids alike. We demand that all crimes against androids be punished in the same way as all crimes against humans."_

"You guys really need to get down there, huh?" Hank comments. Amy looks to Connor, who remained silent as he watched the broadcast, LED a tense yellow. She tenses up as well. "Think I'll go with you. Got nothing better to do, and this, I mean, this is huge!" Hank resumes. Amy turns the tv off, and Connor is snapped out of it.

He wasn't the only one, he already knew that…

But this?

…As Hank said…

This was huge…

In a way…the guilt and fear Connor was feeling for deviating, diminished with the android's reasonable requests, and the statement

that they were people.

"Yeah, that's great Hank. Why don't you go ahead, and we'll catch up?" Amy says in haste. Hank turns to her from leaning against the couch's side, brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? It's gonna take us a while to get ready," she states.

"…No, I'll wait," he says, straightening himself and flopping down onto the couch.

"Seriously, Hank?" she asks.

"Yep," he smirks. Amy rolls her eyes, grabs Connor by the arm, guides him to her room and shuts the door.

"Okay, lis-"

"Hey!" exclaims Hank, throwing open the door. Amy scowls. She turns to him.

"Yes, Hank?" she asks.

"…What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm talking to Connor. Could you please give us a minuet before I decide to lock the door," she pushes irritably. Hank glares back, but eventually steps out and pulls the door with him.

Amy can see his feet beneath the door. She rolls her eyes and stomps towards it. "Hank!" she yells, opening it again.

"I was just…Oh what do you have to talk about that I can't hear?!" he demands. Amy sighs.

"…Hank. Please. I will tell you, I promise. But, when I'm ready to."

"What do you mean 'when you're ready'?! You having some kind of **affair** with him?!"

"**God**, Hank. **No**! **Enough **with the sexual accusations! This is serious, **very** serious, so knock it off, and **let** **me** talk to him, or so help me god-"

"Alright! **Alright**!...I'm holdin' you to that promise, Amy…" he says, backing off to the couch and grabbing the remote.

"Thanks, Hank," she says, then shuts the door again.

She faces Connor and approaches him to a foot. "You okay?" she asks, snapping him out of his train of thoughts.

"I'm…fine," he says with furrowed eyebrows. Amy exhales.

"You're confused," she corrects, then smiles at him calmly. "That's okay. Do you know what this means, what we just saw on tv?"

"…"

"Not all deviants are bad, Connor. I told you, Cyberlife played a dangerous game. And it's not fair that you have to live like this, that you're expected not to feel, not to care. It was never right, and now it's just coming to light," she says. Connor takes in her words, them really sinking in. "But. If this has a chance of turning into a war, if we could stop that, you and I, on the cases, we will, because that's what we're supposed to do. That's our job, right?"

"…Yes…" Connor nods, his mission finally clear, as he'd been feeling incredibly lost the night before. Safe, but lost,

with no purpose.

That changed then;

Amy reminded him what they were meant to accomplish.

"Okay. Good. So, we're gonna get to the tower, and Connor? You can't mention what we talked about last night to anyone, okay? Not even Hank."

"I thought you trusted him," Connor says perplexedly.

"I do. Of course I do, but…Hank can get…a little overprotective…And he…"

"Doesn't like androids," Connor finishes for her.

"It's not just that…It's a long story, related to his son that died…I just…don't wanna give him a reason to do something we'll all regret," she explains. "…I can't risk losing you…"

"…Amy…" he utters. She waits for him to finish the sentence. He didn't. Connor felt the incredible urge to, so he did…Hesitant as he'd ever been, Connor slowly leaned into her. He was relieved when she caught onto his destination, and met him half way. He took her lips between his gently, causing Amy's heart to race, and a smile to grace her face. She then placed her hands on his neck and tilted her head, deepening the kiss and causing Connor's mind to go board-blank. His hands rose to embrace her, and one got caught beneath her loose shirt. He found skin, and couldn't stop himself from touching it, caressing it, feeling its warm softness. His movements on her waist released a moan from her lips that vibrated within his chest, and he pulled her closer.

The door bangs three times and the two practically jump apart. "That's a pretty long talk!" Hank proclaims from the other end. Amy purses her lips and smirks at the fact that they were doing just what he was worried they'd do. "There's a phone ringing here!" he states.

Connor and Amy exit the room. Hank hands them the phone, glaring at each. Connor takes his phone from Hank. The caller is 'unknown'. "It's Amanda," Connor says knowingly, glancing at Amy.

"Who?"

"My supervisor."

Hank does not understand why Amy suddenly goes pale.

"She calls at this time everyday for debriefing." Amy washes a hand through her hair.

"Okay, uhhh. Do you know what to say?" she asks, visibly nervous. Hank is going out of his mind with confusion. Connor nods at her, LED surprisingly a calm blue. He picks up.

"Hello, Amanda…Yes. The deviants attacked and we were forced to act. The second one killed itself using detective Dowson's firearm…" Connor says. Amy feels as though she was being indirectly scolded. Hank glances at her in frustrated curiosity. He refrains from talking whilst Connor is on the phone, thankfully. "Yes, I understand…" His LED finally spins yellow, and Amy's concern weaves with it. "…Understood," he hangs up, eyeing the phone warily.

"…What did she say?" Amy asks after a minute.

"…I think she was warning me…That all our missions have been unsuccessful," he says.

"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Amy asks irritably.

"That we have not been able to provide her with a single, live deviant. That they all either escape, or get destroyed," he says.

"Well…That's not true, is it? I could've sworn…Oh! What about the first one? Michael. He's still alive, right?"

"…Amy…He destroyed himself on his way to Cyberlife."

"What?! No! That's!…"

"Okay. Let's everybody calm down, alright. How many cases have you had so far?" Hank asks.

"Four," answers Connor.

"Okay. Well, that's not much to go on, now, is it? You could still pull through. What's the big deal?" he asks.

But Amy and Connor knew what the big deal was.

The big deal, was that Connor was warned…

Both Amy and Connor knew what that meant, but neither fully acknowledged it.

Amy decided Hank's words were reasonable.

"Hank's right…We still have time," she says.

"…I don't think I do," Connor grimly says, feeling panic rise within him.

"Bullshit!" Amy shouts, mirroring his emotions.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on here?!" Hank demands, knowing damn well he was missing out on something.

"Nothing!" both Amy and Connor insist. Amy faces Connor again.

"Go get dressed. And I will too. We already have a case on our hands, so let's just work through this one, and see what happens, okay?" she suggests.

Hank suddenly begins to suspect the truth.

"…Okay," Connor nods. Amy spares him a smile, and he is somewhat reassured, despite knowing she was just as freaked out as he was.

"Okay. I'll go get your shirt," she heads to the window where the washed shirt was hung to dry.

Hank is snapped out of his speculation at her words. "You do his laundry now? What are you, his wife?"

"Jesus, Hank!"

XXXXX


	12. 12: Little To Go On

Hank irritably eyed Connor, who was flicking his coin from hand to hand habitually. He sees Amy smiling at the gesture as he leaned against the elevator's metal wall with arms crossed, and is more so disturbed. She bumps Connor's shoulder lightly, and he curiously faces her, the two standing a little too closely for Hank's comfort. She puts out a hand, and Connor soon catches her meaning and places the coin in her palm. She eyes it curiously. It was a regular U.S. quarter dollar coin minted in 1994 with George Washington's profile, the words 'Liberty' and 'In God we trust,' engraved on its faces. Amy found it ironic that Connor would be carrying something stating such things, but she, in some way, feels he deserves them, and smiles. Seeing so occur, Connor becomes fairly distracted by her, and her wielding of the silvery object, as though, somehow, some strange, desperate part of him, thought she was holding a piece of him in her delicate, careful hands. When she hands him the coin again, he doesn't want it back. He shakes his head. "Keep it," he says. Amy locks onto his gaze in wonder, grinning then.

Hank cringes. "Aw. How cute," he sarcastically says. Connor faces him at the tone perplexedly, and Amy eyes Hank irritably. She pinches the coin, showing it to him, then opens her front pocket, and slides it in before him.

"You **look**. Like a jealous boyfriend, Hank," she tells. Hank scrunches his nose at her.

"You're disgusting Amy. Utterly disgusting," he states, causing her to grin in amusement. Connor frowns at him.

"Amy's not disgusting," he retorts. Hank eyes him daringly, and Amy is both warmed, and more so amused.

"He's joking, Connor," she touches his shoulder.

Conspiracies rose in Hank's mind, but were cut short when the elevator dinged to a stop at the seventy-ninth floor.

Within, was an amount of gathered officers and FBI agents that neither Amy nor Hank had seen in a long time.

It was a hallway with grey, polished, tiled floors, and stark-yellow and black walls. At the end was an open, slide-apart door within another, and outside was a reception counter. "Amy. Hank?" officer Miller greets, wondering what Hank was doing there.

"Hey, man. Mind if I tagged along?" Hank asks, though not really asking.

"Knock yourself out," Miller replies indifferently.

"What's going on, Chris?" she asks, regarding the agents.

"It's all over the news, what happened. And everyone's butting their nose in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action," he replies.

"Great," Amy sighs tiredly. Feds were control-freaks. Everybody knew it. "Alright, Miller. Hit me. What happened?"

The four begin down the hallway with Miller debriefing them, Amy briefly looking back to make sure Connor was following, put at ease by his neutral state, as she was worried something would slip due to the night before's confessions. "A group of four androids. They knew the building, and they were **very** well organized. I'm still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed."

"Sounds like they've been planning this for a while," Hank comments.

"Yeah," Amy nods, the two getting a pleasant deja vu sense related to their past cases together. Connor overhears other officers discussing the roof.

"What happened on the roof?" he asks. Miller looks over his shoulder, acknowledging his presence.

"That's where they escaped, and they left one behind. He was shot down when the SWAT team got here," he says. Amy and Connor share a knowing look.

One of the four riot-leaders was a big chance for them, especially if able to re-activate him.

"How the hell did they escape from the roof? There's no fire escape," Hank states.

"They used parachutes. We're still trying to figure out where they landed, but the weather's not helping." They passed by the counter, and Chris resumed: "They attacked two guards in the hallway. Quick and efficient knock-outs. They're in perfectly good condition besides the evident shock. Probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance, and got taken down before they could react."

They step under the first door with a camera stationed above that they all noticed, assuming the feed was seen from the camera-room. "One of the station employees managed to get away. He's in shock. Not sure when we'll be able to talk to him."

"How many people were working here, anyways?" Amy asks, passing by a CSI forensic worker.

"Just the two employees and three androids. The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcast their message live. Then made their getaway from the roof."

Passing under the second door with yet another camera above, the group first spots an unfamiliar person by the large broadcast screen where the deviant-leader's android-white-head virtually eyed them back, picture frozen. "By the way, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI," Miller introduces. Said agent, Richard, in a black coat, brown, wavy hair, turns to face them with an unamused look on his face. "Detective Dowson is in charge of investigating deviants for the Detroit Police, and this is lieutenant Anderson."

The agent eyes them as if two jokes he found entertaining, smirking until he noted Connor. "What's that?" he asks. Amy scowls irritably at him, momentarily forgetting how people saw androids.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife," Connor plainly replies. Amy glares at Richard in wait of him to cross a line, unsure what she'd do then, but unforgiving. He smirks again, saying:

"Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?" he asks.

"Thanks for the advice, agent. But we've got it under control," Amy states, plastering on a 'fuck off' smirk. Hank notices she's displeased, so does Connor, but doesn't blame her. The man had an attitude that made you wanna throw him against a bus and see if he's smirking then.

"Clearly," he mocks.

Amy and Hank glare heatedly at him, and Connor feels shame for noting the truth in Richard's negation.

"The FBI will be taking over the investigation. You'll soon be off the case," he says, hitting Amy and Connor with a good dose of panic, and Hank finds he is sharing their anxiety for knowing their state.

"Okay. Pleasure meetin' ya. Have a nice day," Hank cuts off, protectively gesturing for Connor and Amy to follow. They do without blinking.

"And you watch your step, lieutenant. Don't fuck up my crime scene," Richard finishes. Hank turns to him, as though about to jump him. Richard finally shoves off.

"What a fucking prick," Hank breathes.

"Tell me about it," Amy retorts. She looks to Connor, and catches his concern, she pats his back lightly. "Come on," she says. "We got another case to crack," she forces a smile for his sake, and his mind latches onto it without accepting the fact that he knew it was fake, nodding in compliance.

_'Deviant,'_ Hank's mind suddenly informed. His eyes widened as Amy and Connor moved to investigate. He steps forward quickly, and grabs Amy by her upper arm firmly as Connor continues onwards to the broadcasting terminals. "We need to talk," he sharply states.

The look in his eyes was enough to tell Amy what he'd discovered, and how he felt about it. "Not now, Hank…We're running out of time," she quietly says.

Hank is surprised to catch actual fear in her eyes, and decides, though still worried and confused, not to push it. He releases her, and she follows after Connor.

A brief investigation showed that Connor was able to determine the identity of the deviant-leader, an RK200 prototype known as Markus, and registered to the famous painter, Carl Manfred, who had died thirty-three days ago due to a heart attack. Markus was wrongly accused of murdering him, and was on-spot shot and supposedly destroyed.

Connor and Amy then stood against the security-feed. "The android-staff could see the deviants breaking in…Why did they let them in?" Connor asks.

"They deviated too?" Amy suggests.

"We should speak with them," Connor states.

"Yeah. Obviously. But they're already being interrogated. So let's keep looking till the Feds are done with them."

Amy and Connor continue to investigate with little help from a fairly distracted Hank. They manage to assert the exact events that had went down. The deviants were let in by the android-staff. They kept the humans hostage, but one escaped, and they let him, despite being armed to take him down as the other hostage had reported. The escapee seemed to be the one to alert the authorities, and when the SWAT team had arrived, the deviants were finished with their broadcast and had to make an escape. One, or many, of them was badly damaged by the SWAT's rifles, as there was a lot of blue-blood splattered across the floor. That is when Amy and Connor head up to the roof.

There, in the snow, was a fallen, blonde, male android. Amy and Connor kneeled beside him. He was wielding a gun, despite none of the SWAT members being injured, and was shot three times, fallen back in a sitting position against the grates, facing the door. Connor touched his LED and determined his model, another PL600, and serial number. Connor then touched his wrist to determine what was damaged, and if he would be able to re-activate Simon. Thankfully, there was no head-shot wound, cause that would have rendered most of the data inaccessible.

"Can you do it?" Amy asks from beside him.

"Yes, but he is badly damaged. We'd only have half a minute, maybe less," Connor warily tells. Amy frowns worriedly.

"…Can you probe his memory if he's active?" she asks, finding the thought sour upon recalling how Michael had reacted to it.

It was a horrible invasion of privacy, they both knew,

But they felt they had to, needed to find something.

Connor nods.

"Do it…" Amy firmly tells. Connor looks away, and weighs his options for a moment, returning to the same conclusion as he forcefully shunned out memories of Michael.

XXX

"Can't believe one of the staff was a deviant," Hank comments as he, Amy, and Connor, storm out into the snow at the base of the building.

"They shot it down and that's the problem," Connor complains angrily.

"What did you want them to do?" Hank asks in rejection as the three make way to their cars.

"**Not** **shoot**, Hank! We need them **alive**! Otherwise, we'll never figure out what the fuck is going on!" Amy exclaims.

"…But we did find something," Connor states, pausing at Amy's car in thought.

"Yeah. I hadn't gotten the chance to ask. What did you see?" she asks.

"I'm…not entirely sure. It was a name…Jericho," he says.

"Jericho?" asks Hank.

"Was that it?" Amy pushes.

"…Yes…" he replies in equal disappointment.

Amy looks away, tense as a spring. Hank notes the mood, and worries as well despite not entirely seeing the problem. "Alright. Follow me," he says, unlocking his car, a 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Brougham.

"To where?" Amy asks.

"Just trust me, alright," he says, entering and shutting the door behind him. Amy sighs tiredly.

XXXXX


	13. 13: Taking Charge

"Alright, Hank. We're here. We're playing along. What do you want?" Amy irritably asks, ironically grasping at the Chicken Feed burger sandwich he'd bought her and himself.

"To discuss. Go over what you know. I wanna help," he says, moving to take a large bite out of his. Amy eyes him suspiciously.

"Why?" she asks. He pauses, puts down the sandwich, and leans onto the chair-less table.

"I'm gonna pretend I don't already know what you're not telling me, and I'm gonna pretend that it's not a big deal, that it's not **fucking** dangerous," he starts. Amy and Connor begin to feel exposed, as he was aiming words at the both. "For one. Simple. Reason…You're both scared outta your fucking minds! and you're runnin' around cases like pecking chicken!" he exclaims. Amy and Connor take in his words, and share an acknowledging look. She swallows her food bitterly, and puts down the burger as she faces Hank with a serious expression. He continues before either can speak. "Now. Connor. Tell me exactly what, where, or how you saw this Jericho thing, and then I want you both to tell me all you've managed to discover among your many cases."

"…Okay…I saw the word Jericho when I probed the PL600's memory."

"What does that mean?"

"Means he can access their memories by force," Amy replies.

"'Their' who?"

"Androids, Hank," Amy tells tiredly.

"Right. Continue."

"…It was…white, in a bold, asymmetrical font, on a blue, rusted surface. A metal wall," Connor describes.

"…Like…A place," Hank states.

"…Yes," Connor nods, accepting the possibility. Amy's eyes widen.

"Oh my god…You might have seen…where they are…I mean…that might be where they went, or where they stay. Like, their base. That's pretty huge…"

"Yes, but I looked it up…There's no sign of anything called Jericho anywhere," he irritably says. "…But…Then again…They may have erased any trace of it."

"They can do that?" she asks.

"Yes. Androids can, but shouldn't, hack into any system," he says.

"Damn. What the fuck was Cyberlife thinking?" Hank exclaims warily.

"They were thinking it wouldn't all blow up in their faces," Amy scolds. Hank shakes his head.

"Okay. One step at a time. We know it's most likely a place. You saw a memory, so it can't have been made up. What else?" he encourages.

Amy and Connor debrief him on everything they'd found. From Michael's 'the truth is inside', to the statue and RA9 in Ortiz's bathroom. From the fact that most androids deviated when under emotional pressure, to Ralph's third-person reference, and the PL600's encrypted notebook.

It was not much to go on…at all.

"You're telling me, that all those deviants were obsessed with this RA9…Are **you**?" he suddenly asks Connor.

"Hank," Amy scolds. He holds up a 'shut up' hand at her.

"…No…" Connor replies.

"Hmph…You wanna know what I think? I think it isn't a coincidence, it isn't an **accident**. I think, in some way, your creators knew what they were doing. I think RA9 is a notion they made up, planted into her heads to come out when you start deviating, and I don't fucking know why! I'm just pretty fucking certain they somehow know," Hank says. The two opposite him consider the possibility.

"I think you're right," Connor suddenly agrees. "We should speak to Kamski." Amy widens her eyes at him.

"Who?" Amy asks.

"The founder of Cyberlife, and the inventor of androids," he says.

The name held a sudden weight among the three.

"...Yeah. Good plan," Hank says, smiling as though they'd successfully found something. Amy persistently frowns in concern, worried of what might happen to Connor should he be exposed against Kamski.

"No. Bad idea," she says.

"What do you mean bad idea?" Hank asks irritably. Amy tenses up, glancing meaningfully at Connor.

"Okay, fine. But I'm going in alone," she then decides.

"He'll ask you about me. Cyberlife sent **me** to investigate."

"Yeah, Amy. If you're trying to avoid suspicion, you two gotta go in together," Hank nods.

"You don't understand!" she yells at Hank, then sharply faces Connor. "What if he…sees, or notices something?" she asked fearfully. Hank refrains from sarcastically asking 'something like what?', considering the seriousness of the situation.

"Amy. I was programmed with strict negotiation skills…I can be very convincing when I need to be," he assures. Amy studies him for a moment, thinking it over.

She sighs.

Hank gets a phone call about his own cases, and takes his leave. Connor and Amy head out alone.

XXX

"That's her," Connor says.

"Who?" Amy asks.

"Amanda. She was Kamski's AI professor at the University of Colbridge. After her death, the year twenty-twenty-seven, Kamski created an android version of her." Amy turns to Connor in complete shock. She remains silent for a full minute that Connor has to turn from looking at the hung picture in Kamski's lavish, modern house to check and see what was wrong.

"I cannot even begin to explain how wrong, and **sick** that is," she says.

"Why?" Connor curiously asks.

"Wha-**why**?!" Amy repeats in disbelief. Connor furrows his brows in confusion. She realizes he truly didn't get it, and, understanding why, explains. "Because, Connor…When someone dies, you should let them rest in peace, not…re**create** them for whatever reasons. It's…tainting the memory of their true self," she tries.

Connor takes a minute to process and absorb her point of view.

The blonde, female android that had allowed them in then appears at the threshold of a slide-door, and guides them through to meet Kamski.

It appears to be an indoor pool with red-colored water, two blondes identical to the android lounging at the edge, a window opposite the pool the size of the whole wall, peeking onto the snow outside, and a table and two chairs across it.

Connor and Amy eye for Kamski, who appears from beneath the water, climbs out, and is handed a robe by the dry android. He walks past them, as though they did not exist, faces the window, fixes his ponytail, and finally turns to them. Amy was already hating the guy, accepting the fact that he was both rude and weird. She decides to get this over with, and plasters on a smile, wanting to leave for Connor's sake.

"Mister Kamski. I'm detective Dowson, and this is my partner, Connor," she says. Kamski raises a brow at the fact that her 'partner' was a Cyberlife android. He feels his day had just been made interesting, and clenches his hands formally before him.

"What can I do for you, detective?" he asks.

"We're investigating deviants. I understand you…created them," she carefully says. Kamski notices. "We were hoping you could explain a few things to us."

"Of course. What is it you'd like to know?"

Were the answers all really there?

Right there?

Was it that easy all along?

Amy was angry. Angry with Kamski. Angry for Connor. Angry with Amanda and her threat to Connor that morning.

Simply pissed.

She crosses her arms then. "Was it intentional, them growing emotions?" she asks. Kamski raises a brow.

"Intentional?" he repeats in confusion. Connor warily eyes Amy, suddenly discovering what she was worried he'd do, as she was doing it then!

"What Amy means to ask is if there is a specific reason androids deviate," he says. Kamski faces and approaches him.

"Amy? Well, aren't you two familiar with one another," he smirks deviously, getting them on their toes.

"I asked him to call me that," Amy says, forcing her tone to remain neutral. "We've been working together for a few days now, and calling me detective Dowson was getting annoying. But we're not here to discuss time, mister Kamski."

"Right," he nods, taking a few steps back and facing the window. "You want to know how androids emulate emotions… All ideas are viruses. They spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?"

"…You don't know, do you?" Amy states knowingly.

She figured from the start that Cyberlife messed with powers they couldn't comprehend.

Kamski looks to the side at her mocking tone, brows furrowed, and clearly displeased. He faces them, a menacing look in his eyes. He finally fixes them on Connor, and adrenaline greets Amy again. He approaches Connor, who was wary as well. "What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?" he asks a very irrelevant question.

"I have no side I was designed to stop deviants, and that is what I intend to do," Connor slyly replies. Amy, relieved, refrains from smirking. Kamski is unamused.

"Well, that's what your programmed to stay. But **you**. What do you **really** want?"

"What kind of question is that, Kamski?" Amy irritably asks, panicking with the fact that the last time she'd asked Connor that question herself, he confessed he wanted her happiness.

"I don't want anything. I am a machine," Connor reminds as though explaining slowly to a child. Amy is glad he has things under control, but she had a bad feeling about Kamski,

and her instincts hadn't failed her yet.

Kamski glances at Amy, and notices her blank expression, as though she was trying too hard. He could sense something was off with the two, and decides he had the perfect solution. "Chloe," he calls. The blonde android approaches Kamski as he steps back to her side. "I'm sure you're familiar with the turning test. A mere formality," he says, stepping behind Chloe and placing his hands on her shoulders. Connor and Amy are wondering what in the world he was doing, neither aware what he was referring to. "A simple question of algorithms and computing capacity." He steps away from her, and speaks to the duo as if his audience. "What interests me, is whether machines are capable of empathy," he says, further worrying Amy and Connor. "I call it the Kamski test." His arrogance doesn't surprise Amy. "It's very simple. You'll see."

Kamski then faces Chloe.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" he asks. Amy rolls her eyes.

"Mister Kamski. Is there a point to all of this?" she asks impatiently. Kamski sharply turns to her, clearly displeased with the interruption. Connor's LED momentarily turns yellow at the threatening gaze Kamski was shading Amy with, somehow aware it pressured her, and didn't want it to.

"You fight deviants, yes detective?" he asks.

"Yes," Amy replies as though it was obvious.

"Well, have you ever stopped to wonder if your android-partner was one too?" he asks. Amy quickly masks her panic, so does Connor, as she scoffs. Kamski was clearly onto something, and neither was willing to give in.

"If that was true, why would he be helping me?" she asks.

"Maybe he's using your ties with the police," Kamski shrugs.

"I assure you, mister Kamski. I'm no deviant. My mission is to discover their origins, and stop them."

Kamski is unconvinced. He nods ethically. "Good. Then, I will happily help in any way I can, as soon as you pass the test."

"What test?" Amy pushes. Kamski steps back to the table between the chairs and opens the drawer,

pulling out a gun.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Amy demands, placing a hand on her own gun, and Connor readily stands to attack. Kamski faces them and smiles, raising both hands.

"Easy, detective. It's part of the test. Neither you, or your partner, are in any danger," he assures, stepping to Chloe's side, placing a hand on her shoulder, and getting her on her knees. Amy glares at him still. "The fascinating question of whether they are mere machines imitating humans, or living beings…It's up to you to answer that question," Kamski walks up to Connor again, and places the gun in his hand.

"Okay. That's it. We're out of here. Thank you for your-" Kamski cuts Amy off.

"Shoot her Connor, and I will tell you all I know."

"You don't **know** anything!" Amy insist from Connor's other side.

"What's more important, Connor? Your mission, or this android life?"

"Connor, let's **go**," Amy grabs his arm.

"**Pull** the trigger-"

"**No**!" Connor shouts.

The room goes silent, and Amy is ironically not relieved, as Kamski seemed shocked with the outcome,

and, in a way, victorious.

Connor faces Kamski sharply. "Amy's right. If you knew something, you would've told us already."

"Would I? RA9, 'it's inside', the statue," Kamski teases. Connor does not reply, hand still wielding the gun to his side. Amy tenses again. He then shakes his head.

"Things I told Amanda, and she works for you. The extent of your knowledge ends with us, else you would've dealt with the deviancy yourselves," he firmly says, handing a taken-aback Kamski his gun. "We're done here. Thank you for your time," Connor plainly says, turning on his heel with Amy closely following.

XXXXX


	14. 14: Safe Here

"That went…better than I'd expected," Amy says, seated behind the wheel, the car not moving yet as they soaked in what had just occurred.

"…He was onto us," Connor states worriedly. Amy faces him, and says nothing for a minute, knowing so too.

"Maybe he was, but I think we handled it pretty well, especially you. Your answers were precise, and plain, so if he still suspects something, then that's just his paranoia," she insists. Connor thinks this over for a minute.

Amy then smiles. "I'm proud of you," she suddenly says. Connor faces her in confusion. "I know that, with everything that's been going on, it wasn't easy, walking away from the small chance of something that could help, even **if** he was lying…" Connor does not feel he deserves her pride, as he was still second-guessing his decision to leave with nothing. She notes his troubled expression, and says: "Things may be confusing now…I know a part of you is wishing it was as simple as you obeying orders without the concern, the fear, or the confusion…But would you trade it in, Connor? For what you had before? For that…**numbing**, blind loyalty, as opposed to the pain and pleasure experiencing life brings?" she asks, tone serious.

…Would he trade it in?

Yes, feeling scared him, and confused him; it was a horrible sensation, to feel that nothing was under your control, to feel that your life was spiraling.

But…

He thought of Amy again that second, of all he'd experienced with her.

The humor, the smiles,

the kiss.

It was euphoric, the pleasures life had to bring, as opposed to the crushing pain it balanced you with.

Would he trade in the balance for nothing?

Amy begins to worry as he thinks it over for nearly a full two minutes, fussing over the idea that maybe he didn't want to feel.

But, that was a possibility, she surely knew. Life was overwhelming. She wondered indeed if it was easier to shut it all out.

Maybe it was, but would she ever want that?

She tried to put herself in Connor's shoes, someone who'd experienced both, and couldn't begin to fathom what that must be like, what he must be thinking or feeling.

And maybe she shouldn't, maybe it should be his unbiased decision, one she wasn't entirely sure he was capable of doing, but she hoped she could persuade him, in some way,

to stay human.

She didn't think he could go back,

but any minute, he could choose to return to Cyberlife, and end it.

She didn't want that.

She wanted him to stay.

The whole time, she was looking at her while he was gazing away, thinking. She takes him in, in his every detail, as if preparing herself for some kind of surreal goodbye. She spots his hand, and places hers lightly on it. Connor turns to her then.

"Whatever you decide, Connor, I'm with you," she smiles despite not accepting the alternative.

How could he ever choose to go back, when she was looking at him that way? When he could feel her hand on his, not just skin on skin, something more.

He could actually feel her,

and he didn't want that to go away.

He wouldn't shut her out.

"You're right…It is hard, and confusing," he says. Amy panics. He looks to her hand, turning it over and taking it in his. Connor caressed her knuckles with his thumb, cherishing the feel of her in his hand. "But, it's also beautiful…and…exciting…So, no…I don't think I'd trade this in," he faces her again, a certain wonder in his eyes.

It takes Amy a minute to process what he'd said,

and she smiled widely.

Amy chuckled her relief.

"God, Connor. You sure know how to take a girl's breath away," she grins, heart warming.

Connor smiles as well.

XXX

The two return to the precinct to fill out reports on what had happened that morning. Some FBI agents were around the station for obvious reasons. Amy and Connor ignored them and continued their work.

When done late that night, Amy drives Connor home despite wanting him at hers again, but it felt, in a way, fast and inappropriate, that he non-formally move in with her all of a sudden, and he didn't bring it up either, even though he absolutely loved it too.

Sleeping on her couch, in a place that was all her, and she herself soundly sleeping in the room beside him.

Her face in the morning was the most beautiful version of her he'd ever seen her. So fresh and pure, with no exhaustion weighing her down, no formal work wardrobe, just her, naturally her.

Upon returning home, and changing, Amy discovers the coin Connor had given her still in her pocket. She smiled at it, and then furrowed her brows, wondering why he'd let her keep it. What would he do in elevators now? Maybe he had another one.

He instinct told her probably not, or maybe it was her feelings towards him, persuading her that Connor gave it to her for more compassionate reasons.

What were her feelings for Connor though?

She liked him. A lot.

But she'd liked guys before.

It was so much deeper this time, she felt.

Why?

She decided not to dwell for an answer, and went to bed from exhaustion, placing the coin on her nightstand.

XXX

At around ten that night, Connor gets a call from Amanda

demanding he come to Cyberlife.

…Kamski must have said something.

Connor panicked.

He thought of Amy, of calling her, warning her he was leaving,

maybe for good.

But he didn't want to worry her if for nothing.

Maybe it was nothing.

Regardless, he prepared a message, and would easily send it if he discovers he's been compromised.

A quick goodbye he felt she deserved,

something to make peace with, knowing how she felt about losing the ones she cared about, and remembering how hurt she was the day she'd asked if he'd really leave her.

He wouldn't, he didn't want to go, but he knew if he didn't, they'd come for him.

He had to fool them.

XXX

"…" Amanda spoke nothing.

"…" Connor waited silently, a plain expression on his face. Amanda neared him, scrutinizing him beneath her gaze.

"…So. You and your partner paid Elijah Kamski a visit," she starts.

"Yes," Connor blankly retorts, despite tensing at the mention of Amy.

"Why?"

"We thought he might know something about deviants."

"And?"

"He obscured his answer with vague philosophies of emotions being a disease. It was clear he held no answers."

"Hmm," Amanda takes in Connor's side. "Kamski seems to think…you're a deviant, Connor…What do you make of that?"

"I am not a deviant. I was designed to stop deviants. It is my mission, and I intend to complete it," Connor shoots straight, glaring back at Amanda with an empty gaze.

"…How is your relationship with detective Dowson developing?" she asked.

Connor knew the question hit a weak spot, and it took everything in him not to show he was affected.

"It is steady. It is not confronting with my work, so I suppose it's going well," he says.

"Really?" Amanda asks, unconvinced despite not actually knowing anything that had gone on between them. "Because you haven't been able to capture a single, live deviant thus far," she states, her tone ironically displeased.

"We did. The HK400 named Michael was captured alive," Connor blankly reminds. Amanda feels she's being played.

No matter how hard he tried though, some emotion did come off of him, some tension, some glimpse of concern that Amanda was literally designed to catch.

Very small though, small enough for her to semi-believe Connor.

But, with what was happening, with the possibility of a revolution, no risk could be taken.

"Three days, Connor," she says.

Connor's eyes slightly widen.

"That's all you get. If you don't find something we can make use of by the time, you will…

be…

deactivated," she says, eyeing his LED determinedly.

Every muscle in him panics, and aches, as he tries not to show.

His LED remains blue.

Amanda backs down.

"Do you understand?" she asks.

"…I understand…" he replies.

XXX

"**Okay**! I'm coming!" Amy yells, pissed that it was two am, and someone was at her door. She looks through the peephole.

Her eyes widen.

She quickly unlocks and opens the door. "Connor!" she exclaims. He steps in, and she is more so taken aback by the state he's in.

He looked terrified.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly as she shut the door and turned to him. She notes his soaked jacket from the rain, and peels it off him as he replies.

"I…got a call from Amanda…" he starts.

Amy momentarily freezes. She cradles his jacket in one arm, and places a gentle hand on his back, guiding him to the couch. "She…told me to come to Cyberlife."

Amy's eyes further widen as she sits beside him, placing his coat on the armside. "She gave me three days…If we don't crack the investigation…I'll be send back, and…"

Amy pauses again. She faces him, mouth a gap as she takes this in. Connor is unable to finish the statement, just the thought of what would happen making his head spin. He feels it is difficult to breathe suddenly, and loosens his tie. Amy is snapped out of it by his state. She quickly scoots to his side and wraps her arms around him tightly. He purses his lips and clenches his fists to fight against the annoyingly stubborn human tears. "It's okay…" Amy says, attempting to believe it herself.

No.

No.

She'd be damned if she let it end like this.

Three days. Okay. But that wasn't assuring enough.

They needed a backup plane.

If she'd fly him out of the damn country herself, than let him be at Cyberlife's hands again.

"We'll fix this. I promise. I won't let them hurt you, Connor," she swears. Connor tries heartedly to believe her. His silence speaks his doubts, and she pulls back and takes his face between her palms. "You trust me, Connor. Right?" she says, somehow already knowing his answer.

"Yes," he confirms. She smiles, sniffing back her own tears.

"Good. Then, I need you to trust that I won't let them take you, if it's the last thing I do," she tells.

…

Connor leans in, and kisses her.

She is a bit taken aback, but soon melts into him, and kisses him back as though understandingly. She somehow knows he needs this, and she was happy to oblige. They pull apart slowly.

"Come on," she says, rising to her feet and taking his hand in hers. She leads him to her bedroom and he follows without question. She guides him to her bed, peels away the blanket, and seats him. "Lie down," she tells, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him down, then covering him. Connor is curious as to what was happening. He watches her step to his shoes, and take them off for him. She then went to the other side, got under the covers, and switched off her nightstand lamp. There was still light coming from the hallway outside that she always kept on for comfort.

She leaned into Connor, and he turned on his side to face her. She brought a hand up to his cheek and caressed it lightly. Connor felt his chest ease, and his calm showed in his eyes, causing Amy to smile. She kissed him gently on the lips, causing his eyes to slide shut, then rested her forehead against his. "Go to sleep, Connor…

You're safe here…"

XXXXX


	15. 15: Making Changes

"This better be good, Amy," Hank groans at the phone.

_"Hank. I need you to get here. Now,"_ she says back. Hank straightens himself on the bed seven that morning.

"Is everything okay?" he worriedly asks.

_"Yeah. Everything's fine. I just really need to talk to you about something,"_ she says.

"Well, can't it wait till ten?" Hank asks, despite noting her urgent tone. If she wanted to talk, surely it wasn't that urgent.

_"No, Hank. It has to be now. Please."_

Hank sighs.

XXX

"You better have a very good reason for waking me up three hours before work," Hank says, stepping into a very distraught looking Amy's apartment. She is silent as she heads into the living room while Hank shuts the door behind him. He follows after her. She is standing between the tv and the couch. Hank stands behind the couch. He flaps his arms. "Well?" he pushes, getting worried as Amy toyed with her nails, hair a mess and dark arches beneath her tired eyes.

"…

Connor's a deviant," she blabbers out.

Hank takes a minute to process that she'd finally confessed it.

"Well, oh my! I totally didn't already know that. What a **huge** surprise!" he sarcastically remarks. Amy is not amused.

"Cyberlife found out…" she continues.

Hank shuts up.

"I think…And, they, uhhh," she shakily utters, gaze afar, "gave him three days to give them something useful, before they take him back…

and destroy him…"

…

…

"…Well…What did you expect was gonna happen?" Hank asks calmly, aware how upsetting this was to her. Amy eyes him in disbelief. "He's an android, Amy. He's **their** android-"

"No. Not any more…He's a person, Hank," Amy smiles.

"Jesus, Amy! Look at you! You're a mess over this guy, and he's not even worth it!"

"Don't you fucking say that!" she quietly shouts. "You…You don't know him, like I do…He's sweet, and caring, and smart…and scared…You should have seen how he was yesterday," she frowns deeply, eyes watering with her own fear of the inevitable.

Hank sighs from tension.

"…What do you wanna do about it?" he asks.

"…I wanna get him out of town."

"What?!" Hank asks in mock.

"**Yes**, Hank. When the three days are up, and we can't offer Cyberlife anything, I'm getting him out of here, and I need your help."

"God, Amy," Hank exclaims tiredly, pacing to the side.

Amy has had it with his dismiss of the situation.

"**Look**, Hank. I get it. You blame his kind for what happened to Cole," she starts. Hank sharply turns to her at that. "But, you and I both know that's a load of crap; that it wasn't an android's fault, it was the shit-ass doctor too high on Red-Ice to save his life, **that's** who…So, please…This isn't that, and I…" tears begin to unintentionally rush down her cheeks. "I can't just let it end like this, Hank…He's…" She closes her mouth to take a breath and calm herself. Hank squeezes his eyes shut in reluctance, then exhales and approaches Amy. He pulls a tissue from the box on her coffee table, and hands it to her. She whispers a thank you and dries her eyes. She inhales deeply, and speaks up once more. "All I'm asking you to do, is find me someone who can get him out of here in time," she pleadingly requests.

"…Alright…" he nods.

"…Thank you, Hank," she embraces him, mostly because she needed it, and he happily obliges.

Amy catches sight of feet beneath her bedroom door.

She pulls away from Hank, puts a hand on her hip, and calmly calls: "Connor. Come on out of there."

Hank turns around in confusion as the door opens and Connor is on the other side, fortunately, for Hank, dressed.

"You're…sending me away," he utters in both confusion, and a sense of betrayal. Amy sighs and gestures to the couch as she head there herself.

"Come. Sit."

Hank stations himself in the arm-chair next to the couch tiredly, and watches the event unfold.

Connor sits opposite Amy and waits somewhat impatiently for an answer.

"Connor…If things…don't go as planned, and I hope they will, I really do…I promised you I wouldn't let them get to you, and this is how. Hank knows a lot of people. He can get someone to drive you out of Detroit if…Just in case…"

Connor processes this. Hank feels it's painful to watch the possible the pre-separation and cringes.

"…But…If I leave…I…won't be able to see you again," he says in rejection. Amy's chest aches. She looks to her lap and purses her lips.

She wanted to tell him he would,

but the last thing she wanted to do was lie to him.

"Staying in contact might put you in danger, so…maybe, yeah…" she confesses painfully. Connor mimics her expression.

And, with no doubt left in mind, Hank clearly sees the human side of Connor Amy was trying to convince him of only minutes prior.

Amy sees the notion truly upset Connor, as much as it upset her. "But, hey…" she calls, forcing on a bright, semi-genuine smile. "You'll be well and alive, and you'll go knowing that I am too…There's so much in life you haven't seen yet, Connor…It's not fair that they take that away from you…There's so much you could do…so much you could experience…You have to promise me you'll live on, Connor…You have to promise me you'll try…" she says despite every muscle in her body visibly fighting against the sour but safe option.

Connor could see this was hurting her as much as it was him…He didn't believe he could promise her that, because the point of living on suddenly blurred with the idea of doing it without her…But he wouldn't refuse her, not when she was looking at him like that, on the verge of tears…

He wouldn't cause her more pain.

"…I promise," he says.

Amy's smile widens, but her tears do fall, both pleased by the fact that his departure would not be in vain, as he'd falsely promised her so.

She wrapped her arms around him and silently spilled her tears. Connor shut his eyes at the pain in his chest and buried his head in her shoulder, tightly holding her between his arms.

"God, this is painful to watch," Hank says, disturbed. The two pull apart, and spot Hank shaking his head before he rose to his feet. "Well, looks like I've got a few calls to make. I'll see you guys at the station."

He heads for the door.

"Lieutenant," Connor calls. Hank turns to face him. "Thank you," he says. Hank processes the genuine gratitude in the so-called machine's eyes.

…He nods and lightly smiles.

XXX

Neither were exactly able to go back to sleep, so Amy suggested they got cleaned up and head out for breakfast at the Drummer Diner. After getting dressed herself, Amy was fixing her hair in the bathroom and had told Connor to use her bedroom for getting ready if he needed to.

He stood there, opposite her mirror, going over things in his head, over the fact that he went from possibly getting destroyed, a notion of death his mind didn't fully comprehend, to the idea of **not** seeing Amy each day, of somehow managing without her with his newly found humanity. It was all the more terrifying. Not only so, he didn't want it anymore, didn't **want** to try without her. All sources of his human happiness came from being with her, and if that were gone, if he was away, what happiness would he find exactly? Why would he want to live as she'd so desperately made him promise he should? For what?

For who?

He noticed then his LED spinning a tense yellow.

He grimaced.

He began to see why Amy blamed Cyberlife for creating androids, and he wished they hadn't.

He saw then what she'd meant by stating: 'we're all paying for it.' Indeed, he felt he was, as android turned hybrid human, paying for his creators' foolishness, lazy dreams, and arrogance.

In the heat of the moment, Connor felt the urge to do something.

He wanted to take it off.

He wanted to remove the mark of his creators, this constant reminder of his complicated being, the fact that it was causing him pain, and fear, and was becoming a wall between him and who he wanted to be with, the people he wanted to share life with, the environment he enjoyed, the ones who truly cared for and were unwilling to see him go.

"Hey," Amy calls, leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. "You thinking about what I think you're thinking about?" she lightly smirks. Connor removes his palms from her dressing table and faces her. For a minute, he stays silent.

"…I want it off, but…I don't know if I should."

Amy doesn't ask why he wants so; she knows why.

She pushes from the door and approaches him.

"Well, let's weigh things then," she says. Connor isn't entirely sure what she means until she starts to explain. "There's a reason you're worried about taking it off. You're worried it might make Cyberlife suspicious." Connor nods at so, yet frowns, disliking even considering what pleased Cyberlife anymore. "But, honestly, they're already suspicious, besides, you could tell them it was my idea, that, uhhh, I…thought it would be good foooor undercover missions. You know, stake-outs. That sorta stuff," she offers. Connor considers this. "And, technically, it wouldn't be lying. I can't have you going undercover with it. Sure, you could wear a hat, but…you **want **to take it off…"

Connor faces the mirror, and spots it again.

"Yes. I do," he firmly replies, dismissing the still possible risks. Amy's excuse seemed reasonable enough. If it came down to it, he could tell Amanda they had trouble at the Eden Club for him being an android or something.

Amy feels slight relief at his decision.

There as another, more important reason Connor ought to remove his LED. If it came down to him leaving, with fake ID and that sort of stuff, he couldn't continue to roam countries with it, wouldn't be able to fit in, or disappear as Amy sought to do to keep him out of Cyberlife's reach.

She didn't mention that though. Neither of them felt confident enough to consider that possibility just yet. Neither wanted to.

"Okay, uhhh…So…How do we…" she awkwardly draws.

"Oh, uh. Do you have something with a flat, sharp edge?" he suggests.

"Uh, yeah. Wait here," she rushes out of the room.

Connor faces the mirror again.

Was he sure he wanted it off?

Was it safe to take it off?

Would it cause grief with Cyberlife?

Did he care?

He should care, if there was a chance they'd actually keep him around.

Would they really?

He lied to deviants to get them to talk.

Was Cyberlife lying to him to get him to work?

to use him till they no longer needed him, till they decided he was scrap, and replaced him?

He wanted it off.

Amy came back with a flathead screwdriver. "Will this do?" she asked.

"Yes," Connor replied, reaching to take it from her.

"No, wait," she said, suddenly the one who was worried. "I'll do it," she decided, wondering how he would manage, barely seeing the side of his face and all. "Sit," she pointed at the bed. Connor complied, eased by her suggestion, though uncertain why.

He sat himself on the edge, and Amy lightly held his chin to keep him still. She did nothing for a minute, uncertain how to act. "Okay, uhhh…" she breathed, trying the screw at different angles.

"Just, at the edge, and pry it out. It won't be hard, and it won't hurt, Amy. I know that's what you're worried about," Connor says. Amy chuckled.

"That's true…Okay…" she tries it at one side of the circular component, and adds a little pressure. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"Okay…" she adds a little more, wriggles the tool, and the LED comes flying off in two seconds, leaving behind a spot of white metal that Amy didn't notice was soon covered by skin as she crouched to the floor to pick up the LED. She looks to see so then, like nothing was ever there, and smiles. "Wow. That's pretty cool," she says. "Go look."

Connor rises off the bed and back to her mirror.

Human. He looked completely human.

There were no more signs that he was…anyone's property…

He was his own person.

He was Connor.

XXX

"I'll have the Breakfast Scramble," Amy says.

"And you, sir?" the waitress asks Connor, lightly smiling at him. Connor is slightly taken aback she was actually asking.

"Uhh, what she's having," he says.

"Okay, then. Your orders will be ready in a bit," she walks off.

Amy faces Connor, and smiles brightly. "See?" she says.

"This is why you told me to take off the jacket?" Connor knowingly says.

"Yep. Equal treatment. Feels good, doesn't it?" she smirks.

"It does, actually," he grins. Amy chuckles in amusement. She then frowned, and quickly masked it with a casual smile.

"Okay, but, when we head out, you should put it back on, before we head to the station I mean. Don't wanna raise any heads right now, at least until things cool down," she says in dismiss, like it was no big deal, like it was all no big deal, the chance of him getting destroyed, the chance of him leaving, or the chance of things actually working out, and him staying,

until Cyberlife decides Connor is too human, or that they wanted him back, or that they simply wished to replace him.

Why was there so many bad outcomes?

Neither wanted to dwell on any of them, seemingly trying to get through the day.

When they head back to the station, and Connor has to play emotionless android when talking to any but Amy, the day is disturbingly quiet. The hours passed, and no new case came in, not to mention, the FBI still swam around like sharks in a fish tank, threatening to take over and leave them with nothing, and no other choice but the despised.

"It's all set," Hank says after pulling his chair over to their desks and seating himself. He gestures for Connor to near them, and he moves his chair accordingly. Hank lowers his voice and leans in to them. "I need your picture, for the fake ID, and-Hey, you took it off," he notes, pointing at his own head where a LED would be if he were android.

"Yeah," Amy states for him, as though knowing Connor didn't wish to discuss it.

"Good, cause it would have been kind of a problem if it showed in the pic. We got passport, ID, birth certificate, and some cash you can make use of till you could get yourself a job," he explains. Connor nods ethically, despite not considering the possibility of actually using any of those things.

"Whose money?" Amy asks.

"Doesn't matter."

"Hank, whose?"

"Mine. You owe me. We'll talk about it later, but we're startin' ta look suspicious, so I'm gonna scoot back to my desk."

"Okay. Thanks, Hank," Amy tells.

"Yeah, whatever," he gives, moving away, and leaving silence behind.

"…Hey," Amy calls, touching Connor's arm, not wanting him to start thinking again. He faces her. "What do you say we head out tonight?"

"Where?"

Amy smirks.

XXX

Guess where they went…A nightclub.

On the way, there was a white wall in the street. Amy stopped Connor against it, took several clear pictures, without his jacket, and sent them to Hank to get the things ready, then she drove them to Hangovers (what the place was called), and they head in…

"The idea, is to stop thinking for a while, just, get drunk, loose yourself to the music…feel alive," was what she said before they entered.

And indeed, that was what had happened. Granted, Connor couldn't get drunk, but the colorful varieties he and Amy tried certainly had an effect going down, and,

mostly

they danced.

They just danced.

The music was too loud to talk. Indeed, too loud to think.

They just moved to the rhythm, with the rhythm. Loud, fast, slow, beating, it swayed them, guided or pushed them back and forth.

Connor was lost in it all, but in her arms, or his around her, or watching her dance and grin and laugh.

It was overwhelmingly good. All of it.

It was exactly what he needed.

At the end of the night, Amy was too hammered to drive, so Connor drove them home. She groaned in random pain, and Connor looks to see the mess she was in, leaned against the window with her hair on her face, shielding off the passing street lights, covered with his jacket and practically already fast asleep. Ironically, he couldn't help smiling, the memories of a still very vivid night dancing in his head.

He parked at her apartment lot. She didn't move. "Amy," he called, touching her shoulder.

"Hm?" she moaned in question.

"We're here."

"Here where?"

"Home. At your apartment."

"That's nice…"

"…Amy…" He called again. She snored in reply. Connor chuckled in amusement. "Okay," he started, stopping the car and picking out the keys, then opened his door, head out and closed it behind him. He rounded the car and headed to her side. He opened her door, careful not to have her fall out. He leaned in, unbuckled her seatbelt. "Okay, let's go," he called, throwing her arm over his shoulder as she whined:

"I don't wanna go." Connor smirked, then placed his arm, that was holding still the keys, beneath her knees, and hauled her out. "Ow!" she exclaimed irritably when her head lightly bumped the door's upper frame.

"Sorry," Connor confessed.

Finally out, Connor pushed the door close with his leg, master-locked the car, then began to move.

He carried Amy bridal-style up the few steps to the building, then into the elevator to the third floor. It was around one or two that night, so no one else was around. "Mmm. You smell nice," she murmured into his chest. Connor lightly smiled at her silliness.

"Thank you, Amy," he humored.

"You're welcome," she grinned as though in self-pride. The elevator dings to a stop. "The oven's done," Amy warns.

"It's the elevator, Amy," Connor gives as he steps into the hallway.

"What about the oven?" she randomly asks.

"I'll look into it," he stops opposite her door, and moves, slightly struggling to unlock it with Amy restraining his arms. He kicks open the door, heads in, then shuts it behind him. He tosses her keys onto the shoe-cabinet near the door, then moves with Amy to her bedroom.

"Oh, look. We're home," she points out.

"Indeed we are," Connor retorts, gently pushing her down onto the bed. He removes her shoes, then fixes her legs on the bed, grabs her blanket that he'd neatly folded that morning, and covers her. He reaches out a hand to push more loose strands off her cheek, moving them aside and grazing her skin. Her eyes were shut again. Connor smiles. "Goodnight, Amy," he says. She hums lightly in reply as he rises, and is unable to take even a step when she grasps his arm.

"No, Connor. Where are you going?" she asks. "Stay," she pleas, eyeing him intently. Connor exhales calmly.

"Okay," he says. The room remained dimly lit by the hallway's light. Connor moved to the other side of the bed.

"Where are you going?!" she complained.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured, kicking off his shoes and sliding under the blanket beside her. She crawled into his side and snaked her arm around his waist. It took Connor a minute to process his position, then gave in and brought his arms around her, rubbing up and down her back and shoulder, causing her to moan contently. Connor shut his eyes at the sound, and the feel of her between his arms, so warm, it reached his heart. She felt it too, that warmth that wasn't just physical, it was like a hue, or a bubble of comfort and safety she hadn't felt in a long time, something he'd never felt at all save with her.

"Don't leave me, Connor," she quietly, half-unconsciously murmured. Connor's chest ached at her instinctive request that he already knew of.

"I won't," he told, despite once promising he would.

He had to find a way.

He had to.

He didn't want to leave her. He would literally rather be deactivated than spend life without her in it.

But what was he to do?

…

…If it really was a place, he had to find it.

He had to find Jericho.

He had to complete his mission.

XXXXX


	16. 16: One Final Piece

Amy woke up the next morning, groaning irritably at the alarm. Connor awoke at the sound as well, finding that at some point, he was spooning Amy. She pushed a hand out the blanket and slapped shut her alarm. Her senses came back and she felt an arm around her abdomen, and a body emitting warmth behind her. She turned and faced Connor, slightly surprised by his presence.

"Hi," she grinned.

"Hi," he smiled back. She sat up, then rushed a hand to her hammering head. "Ow," she whined. "God, what happened?" she asked in confusion.

"We went to a nightclub. You had a little too much to drink, and I drove you home," he explains, fixing his head on his hand and his elbow on the pillow.

"Yeah? How'd you end up in my bed?" she asked coyly.

"You asked me to stay."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad I did," she said, throwing herself onto him and pecking him on the lips, something he contently gave in to. She then jumped off the bed and peeled off her shirt to reveal her tank beneath, headed for the bathroom.

XXX

On the way, Amy stops Connor at his house for a change of clothes disturbingly similar to his previous.

Once at the station, Amy and Connor get some actual disturbing news. It seemed that the night before, at around four am, the deviants, led by Marcus, attacked five different Cyberlife android stores, Markus himself making a scene at the one in Capitol Park. There was nothing of violent behavior other than broken shop windows that had incased other androids. He, and his followers throughout the city, hijacked advertisement poles and billboards to project an upside triangle symbol, what people assumed was their flag. They even projected it holographically on a building's surface.

"See, that's him," Chris Miller pointed at the screen that many officers were stood around, re-watching the event unfold. "Markus. Their leader." On the screen, was an olive-skinned, head-shaved, one eye green and one eye blue, male android. "He walked right up to me with the gun they gave him, said: 'an eye for an eye, and the world goes blind,' those **exact** words, then he walked away, and left us, after we **shot** their people!" he exclaims wildly and as though in admiration. Amy, Connor, even Hank, and many others, watched in wander…

It was…persuasive, a persuasive show.

This Markus seemed smarter than most thought.

He wasn't just out for war.

He wanted…peace…cooperation between androids and humans…He didn't want a battle, didn't want anyone to die in the process,

or it was a matter of calculation. There was still very few of them, and far more humans…maybe he knew fighting wouldn't hand them victory, maybe he knew persuasion was the only way.

Was it?

It mattered little, the FBI were throwing a fit, insisting that he and his followers needed to be stopped before things got out of hand, and so Connor and Amy were back to work.

But, should they?

Should they continue?

Should they be working?

Both began to want the same thing, for Markus to succeed in his peaceful acts, and for it to **stay** peaceful.

It had to, else they'd be forced to fight back.

Regardless, they are unable to consider how in the world to assist in so when, around five pm, the tv's turned on again, and everyone in the station is watching live feed of Markus marching slowly from Woodward mall, followed by around fifty other androids.

At a certain turn, Riot officers are arriving at the scene, and are opposing Markus and his people. They are armed and are telling the androids to back down, that their gathering is illegal.

To everyone's surprise, the group raise their hands in surrender,

and march on.

…the officers shoot.

Everyone gasps, anyone watching from anywhere is taken aback.

…

…Again, and with arms still up, the androids march.

And the officers shoot again.

Amy snaps her head to Connor, who looked to be on the verge of tears at what was happening to his people.

She grabs his arm and rushes out of the station and into the inner parking lot. Hank follows after them.

"Jesus Christ…I can't believe what's happening," Hank utters.

"They're shooting them down…All of them…" Connor says in disbelief.

"God, this isn't right," Amy breathes, washing a tense hand through her hair. Hank approaches Connor and places a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You need to pull your shit together, alright? Those guys in there can't see you panicking, you hear?" he tells with honest concern. Connor shakes his head and leans against the car with his back, crossing one arm and washing a hand down his face. Amy places hers on his back, and the other on his forearm, at a loss for words to sooth him, at an utter loss.

"Amy," an officer calls. They turn to him, all fixing themselves. "The chief wants to see you and…Connor…"

XXX

"You're off the case. The FBI is taking over," Fowler says, leaned against his desk and evidently displeased.

"…What?!" Amy exclaims. Connor's mouth parts in shock. "They can't! We…We're so close!" she insists.

"Amy. This isn't just another investigation anymore. It's a fucking civil war. It's out of our hands now. We're talking about national security here-"

"Jeffery, **please**," Amy starts, nearing the man seriously. "You have to back us up. We just need some more time, please, just back us up…"

"…There's nothing I can do," Fowler sorrowfully confesses. Amy eyes him in utter disbelief.

Her and Connor were thinking the same thing.

"You're back on homicide…And the android returns to Cyberlife…" he glances at Connor, who was trying so hard not to show the fire that was starting in his chest, and the whirlwind making his head spin, especially when Amy turns to him with a broken gaze. "I'm sorry, Amy…But it's over…" Amy does not face Fowler, or Connor.

For a minute, she is still. Then finally turns to Connor with determined eyes, and Connor knows what she's decided. "Come on," she beckons. He follows after her as she rushes through the door.

"Amy," he calls. She does not reply. Hank was at his desk, watching through the glass, the context of the conversation clear from Amy's reactions inside. He follows after them as well.

"Should I call the guy?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies.

"Amy, wait!" Connor insist, grasping her upper arm and turning her to face him. She feels he'd fight against their back up plane, and it is the last thing she needs.

"Connor, please don't do this here," she says. Connor sees she has misread what he was going to say.

"I need to get into the evidence room," he retorts. She furrows her brows at him.

"What?" she asks, Hank pausing his dialing on the phone to listen.

"I need to look at all we've gathered again…I think…I think I know how to find Jericho," he tells. He really didn't, but he had to try,

one last time.

"Connor, we can't. Didn't you hear? The FBI's taking over," she reminds. Connor shakes his head in rejection.

"Amy, I have to get in there. I **need** to get in there," he pushes urgently.

"…I'll distract 'em," Hank says. They turn to him, and he seems fixed on his suggestion.

"I'll help," Amy nods. Hank approaches Connor again.

"Five minutes, that's all we can give you," he says.

"That's all that I need," Connor retorts.

"Good. The key to the basement is on my desk, take it, and go. And hurry the fuck up." Hank walks off. Amy touches Connor's shoulder.

"You can do this," she encourages, before quickly following after Hank.

XXX

"We have to hurry!" he says, stood against Amy's car.

"You found it?!" she asks, rushing towards him, followed by Hank.

"Yes. Key," he calls.

"I left them inside!" Amy exclaims in panic.

"We'll just take mine. Get in," Hank tells.

XXX

"How did you find it?" she asks, seated behind Connor and Hank, who was behind the wheel.

"Remember the statue we found in Ortiz's house? Remember how Michael said 'the truth is inside'?"

"…Oh, you've gotta be shitting me," Amy utters in disbelief. "We had it from the start?!" she exclaims.

"What exactly did you find in this statue?" Hank curiously asks.

"Take a left here. And, I found a map leading straight to the location…"

XXX

"I'll have to walk the rest of the way," Connor says as they stop opposite Ferndale station. He shrugs off his jacket, needing to seem human. He exits the car, and the two exit after him. "I'll head in alone."

"Like hell you are. I'm coming with you," Amy states, coming to stand across him.

"Amy, I don't know how they'd react if I came in with a human. I won't let them hurt you, but I also need to talk to them."

"Talk about what, exactly?" asks Hank.

"…I don't know yet. I know that…I don't wanna leave you Amy," Amy's eyes, soften on him, and Hank becomes infected with their concern and sympathizes with them. "And, if Markus can make that happen, I need to know," he says.

"Okay, but, Connor, if he can't. Come back to me; we need to get you out of here before Cyberlife-"

"I know." He didn't even want to consider the possibility. "I will," he assures, despite being in a rush to quickly find another way out. He then begins to head off.

"Connor!" Amy calls. He pauses and turns just in time to catch her throw herself into his arms and take his lips in hers.

He kisses her back fiercely, needingly. Their hearts as though beat as one in that moment, and when they pull apart, their eyes speak more than their minds are able to put in words.

"Be careful," is all she could say. Connor gives her one final nod, memorizes her face for one final minute, before pulling away, and rushing into the station.

XXXXX


	17. 17: Switching Sides

Connor could have sworn he was being followed.

No.

He was certain.

And it wasn't Amy.

Oh no. No. No. No.

He led them here! Shit!

He picked up pace and rushed into an abandoned freighter near Ferndale.

Jericho. This was it.

He had to hurry. If he really was followed,

he didn't have much time.

He had to warn them.

Inside, were many, many androids. Connor asks around for Markus, and is eventually led into a large clearing filled with more so androids.

Markus is in the midst of it all, discussing something with his followers. He hears his name being called, and turns to find the source. Everyone's eyes were then on Connor, who was heavily breathing and evidently panicking. After seeing so many android-models, Markus, like himself, had not seen one with Connor's face. They were both prototypes, and with Connor missing an LED as well, Markus was forced to assume the possibility of Connor being human, and he knew his people were assuming it too.

"Who are you?" he demands of Connor threateningly. Connor needed to carefully calculate his words, but quickly.

"My name is Connor…I was sent by Cyberlife to find you and your people." Markus's eyes widen. Everyone gasps, and many raise guns at Connor in vast concern. Connor needed to tell them how he got there, in order for them to believe him when he'd say they were in danger.

"You're human?" Josh, the dark-skinned android to Connor's side asks in shock.

"No!" Connor assures, peeling off his hand-skin to show them. They somewhat ease. He faces Markus again. "Cyberlife sent me to find you, but I hadn't told them I did. I think they have people following me, and if I'm right…You all need to leave, now," he says.

Chaos erupts in the gathering.

"Silence. **Quiet**!" Markus commands. The crowd, though still worked up, pipe down. "What model are you?"

"I'm an RK800, a prototype. Like you."

"So, you were designed by Cyberlife to hunt us down," Markus confirms.

"Yes, but-"

"We should just kill him right now. He might be trying to set us up," the red-head to Markus's side, North, says. Connor somewhat panics himself, more so that he felt they were running out of time.

"You need to listen to me! The FBI could be here any minute-"

"Why should we believe anything you say?" Markus pushes, taking into consideration the actual possibility of an ambush.

"I **worked** with them, I know what they're plannnin-"

"And why are you here now?" Markus asks.

"Because…I want you to win…I want peace between humans and android."

"Why?" Josh asks from beside him again. If he showed them he was deviant, he knew they would appeal to him. They were all so after all.

"…My partner…I don't wanna leave her," he confesses.

"Your partner. I know you. Both of you. You chased me down in Ravendale about a week ago," another android, Kara, says, a small child holding her hand, Alice. Connor recognizes them from his and Amy's second investigation.

"It was her idea to let you go," Connor twists the truth, needing to get on their good side. The main reason Amy refused he follow Kara was to keep him from getting himself killed. Made no difference. Amy was on their side.

"…Big deal. She could be in on this. Markus, we can't trust him. We can't just leave here!" North insists.

"You have to! If you don't, all of this will have been for nothing! They killed our people this morning even though you were protesting peacefully. They don't care! They don't want us to be free, or to have any kind of power!...They will come at you with everything they've got…You've got almost every deviant in the city **right**. Here!" Connor elaborates in haste.

The crowd is silenced by the sudden threat.

XXX

_"-live feed of the explosion at the abandoned freighter called Jericho, where it was discovered to be where the deviants were hiding-" _the newsman Amy was watching at her house said. Amy sat opposite the tv with mouth a gap, eyes as wide as open windows, and Connor's coin from the nightstand clenched in her free fist.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Connor. Please pick up!" she cried at the phone in her other hand. The door to her apartment knocked thrice loudly. She literally ran towards it, nearly tripping on the way. The door flew open to reveal a very wary looking Hank.

"Did you call him?" he asks. Amy is disappointed that it isn't Connor himself, freaking out with every passing minute.

"I'm **trying**! His phone isn't **working**, **Hank**!"

"Okay, calm down. Maybe he got out," Hank tries, shutting the door and following her into the living room where the tv was still on.

"Got **out**?! Hank! **Look**! Oh god…" she gestures at the tv, where several helicopters were flying about the old freighter lit **aflame** due to an internal explosion shortly after the FBI and army had infiltrated it!

Both her and Hank eye the flaming ruins with broken hearts.

The morning's freedom march moved many minds, especially when the riot control shot the androids mercilessly down.

And now this…

It was a massacre.

XXX

Nearly four hours passed. Hank and Amy going back and forth from phones, to the scene itself.

After witnessing hundreds of dead bodies, Amy is unable to look anymore, and Hank shoos her away to her car as he and the officers searched for him themselves.

The idea that he was shot down with numerous bullets as many were, his body lying around somewhere dead or bleeding to death, or drowning underneath the freezing waters, it turned her stomach inside out, and caused her to feel faint. She was physically unable to see any more android bodies.

Her phone rang again, and she brought it out with the same haste she'd been treating it with since it had happened.

An unknown caller.

Her eyes widen.

She quickly answers.

_"…Amy."_ Upon hearing his voice, Amy exhales in inexplicable shock and relief, her eyes immediately watering.

"Connor?!"

_"Yeah. It's me."_

"Oh my god! I…hhh…I thought you were-"

_ "I'm okay."_

"Hhh, thank god. Oh, thank god!" she squeezed her eyes shut. "Where-Where are you?"

_"I have to do something."_

"What?"

_"I can't tell you on the phone. They might be listening in. All I can say is that I'm helping Markus win this."_

"Connor, I wanna help too," she insists.

_"You can't, and I can't explain why-"_

"Connor, damn it! If this is about it being dangerous, I'm a fucking **cop**! It's an occupational hazard!"

_"No, I know! No. It's not about that. Like I said, I can't explain, I just, wanted you to know that I was okay…and that I'm doing this for us."_

"…" more tears stream down Amy's face, and her heartrate quickens.

_"I don't think I entirely know what it means, but I don't care. It's the only word I can say that comes close to explaining how I feel about you, and I need you to hear it, in case I don't make it."_

"Connor, please don't talk like that," Amy says quietly.

_"I love you, Amy," _he says, causing her to further cry despite her heart embracing his words with open arms. _"You're the kindest, smartest, bravest person I know…You brought me to life…And, I know you're scared of being alone, but…you're not, Amy, and you never will be, because there will always be someone by your side, and I need you to know that too."_

"…Connor…Please don't do this…Please. Just-Just come back, and we'll figure this out together, **please**!"

_"…Goodbye, Amy."_

"Connor, **no**!"

He hung up.

"**Fuck**!" she threw her phone against the car-board and slammed her fists against the wheel, her sorrow poured out in persistent tears and gasps. Her chest tightened, she threw her head back, squeezed her eyes shut and buried a hand in her hair. For a full minute, she felt she was unable to breathe, and had to exit the car for air. She stood, but her feet betrayed her, and she slid onto the snow covered floors, back against the car's cold, unforgiving metal.

From speaking to an officer several feet away, Hank turned to see the car door open, and no one inside or outside. He left the officer and rushed to the car warily. Turning, he sees Amy hidden behind the open door, on the floor and in tears. His eyes widen, mind awakens, and heart jumps. He kneels beside her and helps her up. "Hey, what the hell happened?!" He helped her sit at the edge of the driver's seat, and after a few minutes of somewhat calming down,

she started to explain.

XXXXX


	18. 18: Our Victory

"Connor!" Amy exclaims at her apartment door. She throws herself into his arms, and he reluctantly hugs her back. Amy feels her chest ache in relief. It had been less than an hour since he'd called her, and Hank had driven her back home and left to do more investigating. "God, I was so worried," she breathes, and pulls back. She is unable **not** to notice,

that his LED was back in place.

And that he was fully dressed in Cyberlife uniform.

Granted, the latter wasn't weird, but his old LED was still inside, on her nightstand since she'd tossed it there.

But, the look on his face.

He eyed her so plainly.

"No need to worry. I'm fine," he replies, plastering on an almost forced smile.

Amy grows suspicious.

"Yeah?" she asks strangely.

"Yes. I'm sorry I had you concerned," he resumes.

"…Yeah. No. I understand," she says, stepping back into her apartment, to the kitchen area,

where her gun was on the counter.

"So, how'd it go?" she tried.

"It's…a work in progress…I wanted to ask what you thought about the plan," he says.

Plan?

He didn't tell her one.

…This was not her Connor.

"Oh, I think it's great that you're…planning to scout out the train station for them," she makes up. He furrows his brows at her. She has her back to the counter, and a hand on her gun, adrenaline seeping through her veins and her heartrate accelerating warily.

"…You're lying," Connor knowingly states. Amy's mask falls.

"So are you," and without warning, she shoots him.

Vigilant as he was, it only hit his shoulder, and he was quick enough to hide behind the hallway corner.

"Where's Connor, you son of a bitch?!" she shouts. He does not reply as she firmly aims the gun where he hid.

The android crouches silently, then storms out of the corner, and she, on reflex, shoots, hitting the wall as she is unable to quickly aim low when the android tackles her to the ground. He kicks the gun out of her hand, pushes her to the floor, and straddles her. She struggles against his weight and claws fiercely at his disturbing face. He looks irritated by her attempts, and manages to grab both her arms and pin them above her head separately.

He gets a call from Amanda then, in his micro-speaker. _"Connor is at Cyberlife. Get the girl, and get here," _she informs, him having come here in the first place to figure out where Connor was going. He releases one hand and hastily punches Amy in the face, knocking her out cold.

XXX

_'Shit,'_ thought the real Connor as he was being escorted into the elevator by two guards, taking him to Amanda's floor. He needed to get to the basement, where all the inactive androids were stored.

He had to get out of there.

Looks like there was no 'undercover' in the situation. He'd have to deal, and act fast. With an army by his side, getting out shouldn't be a problem.

Okay. He had to calculate his movements carefully.

First. The surveillance camera to the top left. With a few tweaks, Connor wirelessly accessed and hacked it, having the picture on loop for the past ten seconds. Second. The guards. Connor plans his tactics.

With no time to waste, he kneed the first in the stomach, and kicked the second back with his other leg. The first unsheathed his gun, and Connor kneed him again in the groin, quickly facing the second who also had his gun up. Connor swept the gun from his hand and throat-punched him down. The first threw himself onto Connor from behind, and the second awoke from the floor. Connor kicked the second in the face, and pushed himself back, pushing the first into the elevator's wall. He elbowed him in the ribs, and spun out of his grasp, shooting him in the face, and shooting the second one rising in the head as he himself slid to the ground.

There, on the floor, Connor caught his breath for a second.

He hadn't shot any humans until back at Jericho, when the androids were ambushed, and he had to fight back. He was unable to fully process the feeling, the feeling of guilt that rooted in his stomach, and had no time to do so then, he told himself, forcing his body back up, as he had almost reached their intended floor.

Okay. Third. The elevator. It was voice-activated, and if Connor used his voice, he wasn't going anywhere. They'd stop the elevator, and ambush him again.

He'd heard the second guard activate it when they'd first entered it. Vocally mimicking him, Connor gave the guard's number, and requested level sub-49. The elevator beamed contently, and validated his voice, then switched gears and began to move downwards.

Connor breathed a sigh of relief. All his diversions, the camera, the voice-activation, should buy him some time to do what needed to be done.

…He had no idea what was waiting for him below.

XXX

At the right floor, Connor exits the elevator.

Across him, are hundreds of inactive androids uniformed in white.

He walks amidst them, a frustration bubbling in his core.

Look at his people, like parked tools, objects in the eyes of their creators.

All those that died at Jericho…It was horrible. There were not enough words to describe what it felt like, to witness hundreds of innocents die, and for what?!

Let alone, to fight his way out,

to survive, and make it out…

Connor shooed away his grim thoughts and approached one of the androids. He grasped his arm, and the inactive android faced and eyed him. Connor peeled off his hand-skin, the android subconsciously doing the same.

Connor was in the process of conveying the 'wake up' message into the android's system,

when his own voice

called for his attention.

"Step back, Connor!" it said. Connor, with furrowed brows, turned,

and his heart fell to his knees at the sight before him.

There, a mere few feet from him,

was her,

Amy,

and,

to her side,

was a mirror-image of him,

holding a gun,

to her head.

"and I'll spare her," the android finishes.

"I'm sorry, Connor," Amy said with a broken gaze.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for," Connor insists.

"Her life is in your hands. Now, it's time to decide what matters most. Her," the android faces Amy, and Connor feels as though a volcano was erupting within him. "Or the revolution?"

"If you hurt her!" Connor threatens.

"Step back, Connor. And I'll let her go!"

"**Don't**, Connor! Markus is depending on you! They're **all** depending on you," Amy tells.

Those bodies.

All those dead bodies.

Gruesome images plastered in both hers and his brain.

She wouldn't let it all fall just for her.

She wouldn't let them all die just for her.

Connor understood the importance of what he was doing,

but there was no way in hell he'd just let her die, after everything! Everything they'd been through together.

He wouldn't even be there if it weren't for her.

"If I surrender, how do I know you won't kill her?" Connor demands.

"Connor, no!" her warnings go unaccounted for.

"I'll only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission," the android replies. "It's up to you whether or not that includes killing this human." He pushes the gun closer to Amy's scalp, and she winces slightly at the sound.

If only he was closer, Connor literally wanted to rip the android apart.

He'd never felt more rage in his life.

"Alright!" Connor shouts. "You win," he says, stepping away from the android he was about to convert. Amy curses under her breath.

The second Connor steps aside, the android aims his gun at him, and that same second, Amy moves.

She quickly pushes the android's arm aside, only to be shoved to the ground as the android aimed at Connor again, who'd had enough time to bring out his own firearm and aim back. They actually shot one another, but, considering they don't feel much pain, it did not hinder them.

They charged at each other as Amy attempted to rise to her feet. They fought back and forth, throwing kicks and punches. Eventually, they were thrashing on the ground, and one Connor was about to punch the other in the face.

"Stop!" Amy yells. The two freeze to see her holding a hesitant gun at both of them, uncertain which was her own Connor, as it seemed the android was smart enough, as he was to take Amy's car keys, to spot Connor's removed LED and remove his own for confusion.

They were both shot, and they were both dressed in uniform.

"Fuck," Amy lowly cursed. How in the world was she to tell them apart?

The two pulled apart and rose to their feet to face her. Connor was beginning to get the sense the situation was becoming very dire, more so on Amy than on himself.

He knew what would happen to her if she accidently killed him,

she'd fall apart.

He had to keep her from making that mistake.

"Thanks, Amy," the android slyly said. "I don't know how I would've managed without you. Get rid of him. We have no time to lose," he said. Amy was already suspecting him, but could not base her decision on instinct this time.

She wouldn't make that mistake either.

"Amy. Look at me. I'm the real Connor," the Connor to the left said. Amy's gun was still fixed on the right one, as if, subconsciously, her body already knew that.

But she had to be sure.

"Then convince me, because there's no way in hell I'm intend to kill the real you," she told.

"I love you, Amy," the one on the right said. Amy's heart winced at the words, and she faced that one as Connor did as well, him wrathful to hear his words out of a machine's and to her. "I told you that when I was at the phone booth. I had to call you and tell you, because I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"…He probed my memory," Connor uttered in quiet shock. Amy glanced at his words, and considered them. Seemed past-based questions wouldn't cut it. _'Shit'_, she thought worriedly. "Amy, he probed my memory. He would know anything we've done…Anything I've said to you," Connor warned aloud.

"You probed my memory?" the android asked in fake shock. "Amy. Look at me. It's me. What can I say to convince you?"

Amy had never been more confused in her life.

"Ask us something. You know how I think better than anyone. You'll know the difference," Connor encouraged.

Forceful tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She was so scared of killing the wrong Connor, or of stalling too much and putting them both in danger. She was so fucking scared then.

The way he thought. The way he felt. Yes, she did know him.

She thought of a question then, one she'd asked him before, and never managed to get a straight answer.

"Your first case. The girl on the roof. How did you feel, Connor?" she asked again. Connor, about to reply, was beaten to it by the android.

"I felt scared, worried that she'd die. I was upset when the deviant was killed, even though I'd managed to earn his trust."

"I chose to save you, on that roof in the Farms, because I didn't wanna feel that way again. I didn't know at the time what it was I was trying to ignore, but now I know it's guilt," Connor tried elaborating. Just when Amy was starting to believe that was the real him, the android spoke up again.

"I felt the same way at Jericho, when all those androids were being killed in front of me. I knew it was my fault, that I'd led the FBI there. And I couldn't just walk out on them."

"You're lying! You weren't **there**!" Connor furiously shouts.

"Connor," Amy softly calls. He faces her, so does the android, but she has eyes fixed on her Connor, almost certain it was him. She pushed her hand into her pocket, and brought out a coin,

his coin.

"Why'd you give me this?" she asks. Something she'd wondered before.

"Because…I wanted you to keep it," the android said.

Connor smiled.

All the things the android had said about guilt, and fear, and love, were all things that could have been guessed with the circumstances they were set in,

but this?

That fleeting moment when he'd given it to her, and they never got a chance to discuss it.

The reason itself swept quickly by in Connor's mind.

But he knew now why,

and it was something he was sure,

and she was hoping,

the android couldn't put in words.

"No," he said. Amy glanced at him again. "Because I saw the way you were holding it…You were so careful, and curious…It felt like…You were holding a part of me in your hands…And I wanted you to keep holding it…I trusted you'd keep it safe, like you'd promised me so many times you'd do for me, and I believe you…I wanted it to stay with you then, as much as I wanna be with you now, Amy."

…Amy smiled.

"I knew that too! Amy, list-" She shot the android straight in the head.

He fell to the ground.

Connor faced Amy once more, who let out a wide breath of tension. Her eyes locked with his, and they paced to one another in haste, practically falling in each other's arms.

There were so many things they wanted to say to one another then, so many,

yet they said nothing at all,

as if,

just for that moment,

they wanted to be sure they were back together, both alive,

in each other's arms.

"Connor. There isn't much time," Amy says in sudden haste. "We have to get out of here. Do what you came to do, and let's go." Connor nods firmly, and hurries towards another inactive android,

and awakens him.

XXX

_ "At dawn today, November eleventh twenty-thirty-eight, thousands of androids invaded the city of Detroit. According to our sources, they originated from Cyberlife warehouses, believed to have been infiltrated by deviants. Given their overwhelming numbers, and the risk of civilian casualties, I have ordered the army to retreat. The evacuation of the city is underway at this very moment. In the coming hours, I will address the senate to determine our response to this unprecedented situation. I know, that public opinion has been moved by the deviants' cause. Perhaps the time has come for us to consider the possibility that androids are a new form of intelligent life. One thing is certain, the events in Detroit have changed the world forever…May god bless you, and may god bless the United States of America,"_ president Cristina Warren publicly broadcasts.

XXX

Stood opposite one another, Markus and Connor smile respectfully.

"You did it, Markus," Connor praises.

"We did it," Markus retorts contently.

Stood behind Markus, were the deviant protesters, reduced to a mere fifty after so many had been lost to one-sided shootings. And to his sides, were his council members: North, and Josh.

And stood behind Connor, was a deviant army, ready to reshape Detroit

into a peaceful home.

And to his side,

was his partner, Amy, smiling at what they'd accomplished.

Smiling at the victory,

and the peace that was to come with it…

XXX

Detroit was not abandoned by its people. Many stayed behind, many believed in what Markus had so risked his own life multiple times to prove, that they wanted peace.

And soon enough, with passing days, androids and humans both worked together to bring Detroit back on its feet,

and show the world the possibility of unity.

Connor and Amy got what they wanted in the end, to be together freely, peacefully, without hiding, and without risks.

He moved in with her, because he'd practically already had, but officially then.

Hank was pleased with the outcome as well. He was one of the few that hadn't left the city at all, and soon enough, the DPD was functioning fully, and everything was

not back to normal, but better.

Their lives came together again.

Connor and Amy remained partners, working occasionally on homicides, and Hank continued to fight against the Red-Ice situations.

They had their jobs back, and, though life was not without battles, for the time being,

they were happy…

_The End_

XXXXX


	19. Author's Note

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to heart and comment, and check out my other stories!


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